rude litter was constructed, and the four men
carried the wounded Douglas to Dic's house, where he was placed upon a
couch of hay in a wagon, and taken to his home, two or three miles
eastward.

On the road over, Billy Little asked Dr. Kennedy to lead his horse while
he talked to Patsy Clark, who was driving in the wagon.

"How did Dic happen to shoot him?" asked Billy when he was seated beside
Patsy.

"D-Dic d-di-didn't shoot him. Ri-ta did," stuttered Doug's henchman.

"No, Patsy, it was Dic," said Billy Little.

"I-I re-reckon I or-orter know," stammered Patsy. "I-I was there and
s-saw it. You wasn't."

"You're wrong, Patsy," insisted Billy.

"B-by Ned, I re-reckon I know," he returned.

"Now listen to me, Patsy," said Billy, impressively. "I say you are
wrong, and--by the way, Patsy, I want you to do a few little odd jobs
about the store for the next month or so. I'll not need you frequently,
but I should like to have you available at any time. If you will come
down to the store, I will pay you twenty dollars wages in advance, and
later on I will give you another twenty. You are a good fellow, and I
want to help you; but I am sure you are wrong in this case. I know it
was Dic who fired the shot. Now, think for a moment. Wasn't it Dic?"

"We-well, c-come to think a-a-about it, I believe you're right. Damned
if I don't. He t-tuk the gun and jes' b-b-blazed away."

"I knew that was the way of it," said Billy, quietly.

"B-betch yur life it was jes' that-a-way. H-how the h----did you know?"

"Dic told me," answered Billy.

"Well, that-a-a-a-way was the way it was, sure as you're alive."

"You're sure of it now, Patsy, are you?"

"D-dead sure. Wa-wa-wasn't I there and d-d-didn't I see it all? Yes,
sir, d-d-dead sure. And the tw-twenty dollars? I'll g-get it to-morrow,
you say?"

"Yes."

"A-and the other t-t-twenty? I'll get it later, eh?"

"You can trust me, can't you, Patsy?" queried Billy.

"B-betch yur life I can. E-e-e-everybody does. B-but how much later?"

"When it is all over," answered Billy.

"A-all right," responded his stuttering friend.

"But," asked Billy, "if Doug recovers, and should think as you did at
first, that Rita fired the shot?"

"Sa-sa-say, B-Billy Little, you couldn't make it another t-t-twenty
later on for that ere job about the st-store, could ye?"

"I think I can," returned Billy.

"Well, then, Doug'll g-get it straight--never you f-f-fear. He was crazy
drunk an