that Doug is not dead. I will take
one of your horses, Mrs. Bays, and ride to town for Dr. Kennedy."

Within ten minutes Dic was with Billy Little, telling him the story.
"I'm going for Kennedy," said Dic. "Saddle your horse quickly and ride
up with us."

Five minutes later, Dic, Kennedy, and Billy Little were galloping
furiously up the river to the scene of battle. When they reached it,
Doug, much to Dic's joy, was seated leaning against a tree. His shirt
had been torn away, and Patsy was washing the bullet wound in the breast
and back, for the bullet had passed entirely through Doug's body.

"Well, he's not dead yet," cried Kennedy. "So far, so good. Now we'll
see if I can keep from killing him."

While the doctor was at work Dic took Billy to one side. "I told Mrs.
Bays and Rita not to speak about this affair," he said. "I will say upon
the trial that I fired the shot."

"Why, Dic, that will never do."

"Yes, it will; it must. You see, I had a good right to kill him, but
Rita had not. At any rate, don't you know that they might as well kill
Rita at once as to try her? She couldn't live through a trial for
murder. It would kill her or drive her insane. I'll plead guilty. That
will stop all questioning."

"Yes," replied Billy, deep in revery, and stroking his chin; "perhaps
you are right. But how about Hill and Clark? They will testify that Rita
did the shooting."

"No one will have the chance to testify if I plead guilty," said Dic.

"And if Doug should die, you may hang or go to prison for life on a mere
unexplained plea of guilty. That shall never happen with my consent."

"Billy Little, you can't prevent it. I'll make a plea of guilty,"
responded Dic, sharply; "and if you try to interfere, I'll never speak
your name again, as God is my help."

Billy winced. "No wonder she loves you," he said. "I'll not interfere.
But take this advice: say nothing till we have consulted Switzer. Don't
enter a plea of guilty. You must be tried. I believe I have a plan that
may help us."

"What is it, Billy Little?" asked Dic, eagerly.

"I'll not tell you now. Trust me for a time without questions, Dic. I am
good for something, I hope."

"You are good for everything concerning me, Billy Little," said Dic. "I
will trust you and ask no questions."

"Little," said Kennedy, "if you will make a stretcher of boughs we will
carry Hill up to Bright's house and take him home in a wagon. I think he
may live." Accordingly, a