ck to the hunt,
he turned instinctively to Gophertown, a settlement in the hills not
unknown to a few of the authorities, but unmolested by them. The
atmosphere of Gophertown was not conducive to long life.

CHAPTER XXVI

SPECIAL

Overland, leaning on his shovel, drew his sleeve across his forehead.
"Reckon I'll go down and wake Collie. He'll sleep his head off and feel
worse 'n thunder."

"I'll go," said Winthrop, throwing aside a pan of dirt with a fine
disregard of its eventual value. "I want some tobacco, anyway."

"Fetch a couple of sticks of dynamite along, Billy. I'll put in one more
shot for to-night."

A distant, reverberating report caused the two men to jerk into
attitudes of tense surprise.

"What the hell!" exclaimed Overland, running toward the tent. "That
wasn't the kid. Collie's only packin' a automatic, and here it is."

He stopped in the tent-door, grabbed up the gun and belt, and ran down
the canon, Winthrop following breathlessly. Near the notch he paused,
motioning Winthrop to one side. "Mebby it was to draw us on. You keep
there, Billy. I'll poke ahead."

But Overland did not go far. He almost stumbled over the prone figure of
Collie. With a cry he tore his handkerchief from his throat and plugged
the wound. "Clean through," he said, getting to his feet. "Get the
whiskey."

"Shan't I help you carry him?" queried Winthrop.

Overland shook his head. "Get the whiskey and get a fire goin'. I'll
bring him."

"Will he--live?" asked Winthrop, hesitating.

"I reckon not, Billy. He was plugged from behind--close--and clean
through. Here's the slug."

Then Overland picked up the limp form. So this was the end of all his
planning and his toil? He cursed himself for having urged Collie to come
to the desert. He strode carefully, bent with the weight of that
shattered body. He felt that he had lost more than the visible Collie;
that he had lost the inspiration, the ideal, the grip on hope that had
held him toward the goal of good endeavor. His old-time recklessness
swept down upon him like the tides, submerging his better self. Yet he
held steadily to one idea. He would do all that he could to save
Collie's life. Failing in that ... there would be a red reckoning. After
that he would not care what came.

Already he had planned to send Winthrop, in his big car, for a doctor.
The car was at the desert town, where a liveryman accepted a royal
monthly toll in advance to care for it.