Mouse Trap

Elijah downed the glass of whisky and smashed it on the counter. He signalled the bartender to refill it and looked straight into the cloudy eyes of his companion.

"It is there, behind the tall hedge, where the forest ends, and the mountain begins."

The fellow kept quiet, and Elijah unconsciously smoothed his striped shirt under his appraising glare.

When the man in front of him spoke, mistrust oozed in his voice.
"How did you find it?"

Elijah thought for a second, then decided to tell the truth.

"I was chasing a mouse."

Elijah's cheeks burned when his companion burst in a sarcastic laugh.

"It spooked my horse and sniffled for the cheese. "

The man with cloudy eyes, dressed in a gray duster coat raised his eyebrows at the defensive tone in Elijah's voice.

"I took a candle and followed it a good distance, so I could set a trap. It worked."

Elijah's eyes lit as he remembered, and he patted the revolver on his side. Another memory dulled his enthusiasm, and he grabbed the whisky glass.

His companion sneered.

"Feeling sorry for the mouse, eh?"

Elijah recalled the loud noise covering the release of the bullet and the eerie light shining from the roof of the cave. He relived his fear when he raised his knife at the throat of a man a head taller than him.

He downed the whisky and shook his head. The giant had a six foot sword trained on him; however, he sneered at the gun on the ground. He mentally repeated the same prayer of thanks for his foe's ignorance and muttered.

"Nevermind, he's dead, the son of a gun."

His companion stood, a head taller, and his coat billowed revealing the hilt of his sword.

Then slowly, he patted his gun.