s all there is to it. Here's all I know, but I don't know
all: About three hours ago Ben Simeral was riding up the Crazy Woman
when he seen a man half dropping off his horse, hat gone, riding head
down, slow, with his rifle slung on his arm. Simmie seen who it
was--Jim Laramie. He looked at horse 'n' man 'n' says: 'Where the hell
you bin?' 'Where the hell 'a' you been,' Laramie says, pretty short.
'Ridin' all over this'--excuse my rough language, Kate--'blamed
country, lookin' f'r to tell you Van Horn and Stone's out o' jail!'

"Laramie seen then from the ol' man's horse how he'd been ridin' 'n'
softened down a bit. 'So I heard, Simmie,' he says. 'Who'd you hear
it from?' says Simmie. 'Direct, Simmie,' he says. 'Did they pot y',
Jim?' 'Nicked my shoulder, I guess.' 'Where you goin'?' 'To town.'
'Man,' says Simmie, 'you've lost a lot o' blood.' 'Got a little left,
Simmie.'

"Then John Fryin' Pan c'm along. Simmie tried to ride to town with
Laramie--f'r fear he'd fall off his horse. Laramie wouldn't let
neither of 'em do a thing. 'This is my fight,' he says. But Simmie
and John Fryin' Pan scouted along behind and Simmie rode in ahead near
town to tell me Laramie was comin'. God! He was a sight when he rode
into this barn. He tumbled off his horse right there"--McAlpin pointed
to a spot where fresh straw had been sprinkled--"just like a dead man.
I helped carry him upstairs," he whispered. "I'll take y' to him. But
y' bet your life"--the grizzled old man stopped and turned sharply on
his companion--"y' bet your life some o' them niggers bit the dust
some'eres this morning. This way."

Kate, pacing McAlpin's rapid step breathlessly, hung on his
half-muttered words: "He's bleedin' to death," continued McAlpin;
"that's the short of it, and that blamed doctor down at Medicine Bend.
I don't think much o' that man. Can't none of us stop it. Where's
this goin' to end?"

He led her by roundabout passages, up one alley and down another, and
at last opened the door of an old harness room, waited for Kate to
follow him inside and, closing the door behind her, spoke: "I didn't
want you to have to climb a barn ladder," he said, explaining.
"There's the stairs." He pointed in the semi-darkness and led her
toward the flight along the opposite wall. At the top of this flight
light fell from a square opening in the hay-mow.

"Walk up them stairs--I lifted the trap-door f'r ye. He's right up
there at the hea