aled, and his hand
shook when he took it, for he recognized the little ring he himself
had given Margaret Adams years ago.

"It's my mother's," said the boy, "and some man gave it to her
once--long ago--for she is foolish about it. Now, of late, I think I
have found out who that man was, and I hate him as I do hell itself.
I am determined she shall never see it again. So take it, or I'll
give it to somebody else."

"If you feel that way about it, little 'un," said Jack kindly, "I'll
keep it for you," and he put the precious relic in his pocket.

"Now, look here, lad," he said, changing the subject, "but do you
know you've got an' oncommon ac'rate gun in this old weepon?"

The boy smiled--interested.

"It's the salt of the earth," said Jack, "an' I'll bet it's stood
'twixt many a gentleman and death. Can you shoot true, little 'un?"

"Only fairly--can you?"

"Some has been kind enough to give me that character"--he said
promptly. "Want me to give you a few lessons?"

The boy warmed to him at once. Jack took him behind the shop, tied a
twine string between two trees and having loaded the old pistol with
cap and powder and ball, he stepped off thirty paces and shot the
string in twain.

"Good," said the boy smiling, and Jack handed him the pistol with a
boyish flush of pride in his own face.

"Now, little 'un, it's this away in shootin' a weepon like this--it's
the aim that counts most. But with my Colts now--the self-actin'
ones--you've got to cal'c'late chiefly on another thing--a kinder
thing that ain't in the books--the instinct that makes the han' an'
the eye act together an' 'lowin', at the same time, for the leverage
on the trigger." The lad's face glowed with excitement. Jack saw it
and said: "Now I'll give you a lesson to-day. Would you like to shoot
at that tree?" he asked kindly.

"Do you suppose I could hit the string?" asked the boy innocently.

Jack had to smile. "In time--little 'un--in time you might. You're a
queer lad," he said again laughing. "You aim pretty high."

"Oh, then I'll never hit below my mark. Let me try the string,
please."

To humor him, Jack tied the string again, and the boy stepped up to
the mark and without taking aim, but with that instinct which Jack
had just mentioned, that bringing of the hand and eye together
unconsciously, he fired and the string flew apart.

"You damned little cuss," shouted Jack enthusiastically, as he
grabbed the boy and hugged him--"to make