The Lost Cabin Mine. Frederick Niven

      "But you told him you were n't heeled," said the barman.

      "Oh! But I might have been lying," said Apache Kid, and frowned.

      "He was n't lying, I bet," said the man near me. "A cool man like that there don't lie. It's beneath him to lie."

      But Apache Kid did not seem to relish the gaze of the room, and turned his back on it and on me, leaning his elbows on the bar again and engaging in talk with the barman, who stood more erect now, I thought, and held his head higher, with the air of a man receiving some high honour.

      And just then, "All aboard!" we heard the stage-driver intone at the door.

      When we came forth again there were only two horses before the hotel.

      "The red-headed man and his friend are gone," thought I, as I climbed to my place, and away we lumbered through the night, the great headlights throwing their radiance forward on the road in overlapping cones that sped before us, the darkness chasing us up behind.