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Updated: June 28, 2025
He said his name was Crannish, and he spelled it for the captain, who examined the crew list to verify him. He said that he was known as "Long Jim" by his mates. He did not seem to take the murder as a serious matter, but answered Captain Riggs's questions calmly, his eyes roving over the interior of the saloon, taking us all in very coolly.
But in the West good men an' bad men, all alike, have no use for Riggs's kind. An' thet stony quiet broke with haw haw. It shore was as pitiful to see Riggs as it was fine to see Las Vegas. "When he dropped his arms then I knowed there would be no gun-play. An' then Las Vegas got red in the face. He slapped Riggs with one hand, then with the other. An' he began to cuss him.
Shore you must be swift!... DODGE THIS HEAH BULLET!" The gun spouted flame and boomed. One of Riggs's starting, popping eyes the right one went out, like a lamp. The other rolled horribly, then set in blank dead fixedness. Riggs swayed in slow motion until a lost balance felled him heavily, an inert mass. Wilson bent over the prostrate form.
Petrak remained at the wheel, a jaunty figure with a white canvas cap on his flaming head and one of Captain Riggs's best Manila cigars between his teeth. He managed the wheel with one hand, holding a pistol ready with the other, and looking the ship over from time to time. "They are steering to pass in behind the island," said Riggs, as I went below.
The moonlight came through the dusty window lighting his face and beard. I put my hand upon his brow and withdrew it quicidy. I was in the presence of death. I opened the door and called the sleeping boy. He rose out of his chair and came toward me rubbing his eyes. 'Your master is dead, I whispered, 'go and call an officer. Riggs's dream was over he had waked at last.
The gun went flying to the platform and scattered a group of Indians and Mexicans. "You'll hurt yourself some day," said Dale. Helen had never heard a slow, cool voice like this hunter's. Without excitement or emotion or hurry, it yet seemed full and significant of things the words did not mean. Bo uttered a strange little exultant cry. Riggs's arm had dropped limp. No doubt it was numb.
"Riggs will turn up at Uncle Al's, sure as I'm born," said Helen. "Let him turn," replied Bo, contemptuously. "Nell, don't you ever bother your head again about him. I'll bet they're all men out here. And I wouldn't be in Harve Riggs's boots for a lot."
Why, Nell and I couldn't even walk to the store in the village. He rode after me out on the range chased me.... For that Carmichael called Riggs's bluff down in Turner's saloon. Dared him to draw! Cussed him every name on the range! Slapped and beat and kicked him! Drove him out of Pine!... And now, whatever he has said to Beasley or you, it's a dead sure bet he's playing his own game.
"And then I went into Griffin's to hae my boots hobbed, and then I went to Riggs's batty-cake shop, and asked 'em for a penneth of the cheapest and nicest stales, that were all but blue-mouldy, but not quite. And whilst I was chawing 'em down I walked on and seed a clock with a face as big as a baking trendle " "But that's nothing to do with mistress!"
He dropped his right hand significantly to his hip. "Don't throw your gun. It might go off," said Dale. Whatever Riggs's intention had been and it was probably just what Dale evidently had read it he now flushed an angry red and jerked at his gun. Dale's hand flashed too swiftly for Helen's eye to follow it. But she heard the thud as it struck.
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