a man
sometimes."

"We must carry him out of this heat," Morgan said.

They carried him across the square to that part of the business front
the fire had not yet leaped over to and taken, and laid him in a little
strip of shade in front of the harness store. Conboy hurried off to see
if he could find the doctor.

Morgan wadded a handkerchief against the wound in Fred's back, whence
the blood bubbled in frothy stream at every weak inspiration, and let
him down gently upon that insufficient pad to wait the doctor, not
having it in his power to do more. He believed the poor fellow would die
with the next breath, and looked about to see if Stilwell were in sight.
Stilwell was nowhere to be seen, his pursuit of Drumm having led him
far. But approaching Morgan were five or six men carrying guns, their
faces clouded with what seemed an unfriendly severity.

"We want to have a word or two with you over in the square," one of them
said.

Morgan recognized all of them as townsmen. He looked at them in
undisguised surprise, completely lost for the meaning of the blunt
request.

"All right," he said.

"The doctor will be here in a minute, he's gone for his case," one of
them volunteered.

Relieved by the word, Morgan thanked him, and returned with them to the
place where a growing crowd of men stood about Seth Craddock and the two
prisoners who had been taken in their attempt to escape. Craddock was
sitting on the ground, head drooping forward, a man's knee at his back.
And Earl Gray, a revolver in his hand, no hat on, his hair flying forty
ways, was talking.

"If he'd 'a' been here tendin' to duty under his oath, in place of
skulkin' out and leavin' the town wide open to anybody that wanted to
set a match to it, this thing wouldn't 'a' happened, I tell you,
gentlemen. Look at it! look at my store, look at the _ho_-tel, look at
everything on that side of the square! Gone to hell, every stick of it!
And that's the man to blame!"

Gray indicated Morgan with a thrust of his gun, waving one hand
dramatically toward the ruin. A sound, more a growl than a groan, ran
through the crowd, which now numbered not fewer than thirty or forty
men.

The sight of the destruction was enough, indeed, to make them growl, or
even groan. Everything on that side of the square was leveled but a few
upstanding beams, the fire was rioting among the fallen rafters, eating
up the floors that had borne the trod of so many adventurous feet. The