"Are you sore over that trouble I had in town? I know how you feel
about--well, about killings; but, Dade, I had to. I hate it myself. You
needn't think I like the idea, just because I haven't talked about it. A
fellow feels different," he added slowly, "when it's white men. When we
fought Injuns, I don't believe it worried either one of us to think we'd
killed some. We were generally glad of it. But these others--they were
mean enough and ornery enough; but they were humans. I was glad at the
time, but that wore off. And I've caught you looking at me kinda queer,
lately, as if you hated me, almost. You ought to know--"
"I know you're always going off half-cocked," chuckled Dade, quite
himself again. "No, now you mention it, I don't like the idea of
shooting first and finding out afterwards what it was all about, the way
so many fellows have got in the habit of doing. Guns are all right in
their place. And when you get away out where the law doesn't reach, and
you have to look out for yourself, they come in mighty handy. But like
every other kind of power, most men don't know when and how to use the
gun argument; and they make more trouble than they settle, half the
time. You had a right to shoot, that day, and shoot to kill. Why, didn't
the Committee investigate you, first thing after Bill was elected, and
find that you were justified? Didn't they wipe your reputation clean
with their official document, that Bill sent you a copy of? No, that
never bothered me at all, old man.
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