wheels toward the door.

"'Pore Dead Shot!' murmurs Nell, the tears in her eyes, to that extent
she has to ask Boggs to take her place as lookout.

"Four hours goes by, an' thar's the poundin' of a pony's hoofs, an'
the creak of saddle-leathers, out in front. It's the Red Dog chief,
who's come lookin' for Enright.

"They confabs a minute or two at a table to the r'ar, an' then Enright
calls Peets over.

"'Dead Shot's gone an' got himse'f downed,' he says.

[Illustration: DEAD SHOT STOPS SHORT AT THIS HITCH IN THE DISCUSSION, BY
REASON OF A BULLET FROM THE LIGHTIN' BUG'S PISTOL WHICH LODGES IN HIS
LUNG. p. 29.]

"'It's on the squar' gents,' explains the Red Dog chief; 'Dead Shot'll
say so himself. He jest nacherally comes huntin' it.'

"It looks like Dead Shot, after that failure with Cherokee in the Red
Light, p'ints across for Red Dog. He searches out a party who's called
the Lightnin' Bug, on account of the spontaneous character of his
six-shooter. Dead Shot finds the Lightnin' Bug talkin' with two fellow
gents. He listens awhile, an' then takes charge of the conversation.

"'Bug,' he says, raisin' his voice like it's a challenge--'Bug, only
I'm afraid folks'll string you up a whole lot, I'd say it's you who
stood up the stage last week in Apache Canyon. Also'--an' yere Dead
Shot takes to gropin' about in his jeans, same as if he's feelin' for
a knife--'it's mighty customary with me, on occasions sech as this, to
cut off the y'ears of----'

"Dead Shot stops short, by reason of a bullet from the Bug's pistol
which lodges in his lungs.

"When Peets an' Enright finds him, he's spread out on the Red Dog
chief's blankets, coughin' blood, with the sorrow-stricken Bug
proppin' him up one moment to drink water, an' sheddin' tears over him
the next, alternate.

"The Red Dog chief leads out the weepin' Bug, who's lamentin' mighty
grievous, an' leaves Enright an' Peets with Dead Shot.

"'It's all right, gents,' whispers Dead Shot; 'I comes lookin' for it,
an' I gets it. Likewise, she ain't to blame; it's me. I oughtn't to
have married her that time--she only a girl, an' me a full-growed man
who should 'av had sense for both.'

"'That's no lie,' says Peets, an' Dead Shot gives him a grateful
look.

"'No,' he goes on, 'she's too fine, too high--I wasn't her breed. An'
I ought to have seen it.' Yere he has a tussle to hang on.

"Peets pours him out some whiskey.

"'It's licker, ain't it?' Dead Shot gasps, sniff