g this other
man, Slattery, but we can't break him down. Jest tells us to go to"--the
sheriff paused, evidently deterred by the thought that swear-words were
unbefitting a hospital--"to the other place, and shets his jaw up tight.
The one up here is called the Teller, as Mr. Barrett says; his name's
Jerry the Teller. Well, we told Slattery that Jerry had died and left a
confession; tried to make him think there wasn't no hope fer him, and he
might as well up and tell his share; might git off easier; warned him to
look out for a mob if he didn't, maybe, and so on, but it never bothered
him at all. He's nervy, all right. Told us to go--that is, he said it
again--and swore the Teller was on his way to Chicago, swore he seen him
git on the train. Wouldn't say another word tell he got a lawyer. So,
'soon as it was any use, we come up here--they reckon he'll come to
before he dies. We'll be glad to have you go in with us," Horner said
kindly. "I reckon it's all the same to Mr. Barrett."
"He will die, will he, Gay?" Meredith asked, turning to the surgeon.
"Oh, not necessarily," the young man replied, yawning slightly behind
his hand, and too long accustomed to straightforward questions to be
shocked at an evident wish for a direct reply. "His chances are better,
because they'll hang him if he gets well. They took the ball and a good
deal of shot out of his side, and there's a lot more for afterwhile, if
he lasts. He's been off the table an hour, and he's still going."
"That's in his favor, isn't it?" said Meredith. "And extraordinary,
too?" If young Dr. Gay perceived a slur in these interrogations he
betrayed no exterior appreciation of it.
"Shot!" exclaimed Homer. "Shot! I knowed there'd be'n a pistol used,
though where they got it beats me--we stripped 'em--and it wasn't Mr.
Harkless's; he never carried one. But a shot-gun!"
An attendant entered and spoke to the surgeon, and Gay rose wearily,
touched the drowsy young man on the shoulder, and led the way to the
door. "You can come now," he said to the others; "though I doubt its
being any good to you. He's delirious."
They went down a long hall and up a narrow corridor, then stepped softly
into a small, quiet ward.
There was a pungent smell of chemicals in the room; the light was low,
and the dimness was imbued with a thick, confused murmur, incoherent
whisperings that came from a cot in the corner. It was the only cot in
use in the ward, and Meredith was consci
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