had ripped the flesh of his left side along the ribs.
McHale made a bandage of the handkerchief he wore around his neck.

"You'll sure have a sore side, kid. Keep down tight. Don't take no more
chances." But a moment afterward he grunted and his rifle clattered
against the rocks.

"What is it?"

"My right arm. Busted above the elbow." He breathed deeply with the
first pain throbs following the shock, and gritted his teeth. "Ain't
this hell? I'm out of it for rifle shootin'. Here, come and cut off my
shirt sleeve and tie her up some. See how much blood she's pumpin'!
Take a turn above the hole and twist her up tight. Blamed if I want to
bleed to death. I got a lot of things to see to first."

Sandy examined the wound by the feeble light of matches, which McHale
held in his left hand, and declared that the arteries were uninjured.
He cut off a leg of his trousers below the knee, and, with McHale's
shirt sleeve, organized a bandage, binding it with the thongs of his
moccasins, swearing steadily below his breath.

McHale leaned back against the rock and demanded his pipe. Sandy filled
it, and held a match to the load. McHale puffed great smoke clouds into
the darkness.

"Tobacco's sure a fine anaesthetic. She beats chloroform and tooth
jerkers' gas. And now, kid, you git!"

"Do what?"

"Make a get-away. Hike. Leak out o' this. You can do it in the dark
just as easy as a weasel."

"Say," said Sandy, "you didn't get hit alongside the head, too, did
you?"

"Not yet. This is straight goods. I mean it. There's no use you
stickin'. There's too many accidents happenin'. Come mornin' maybe you
don't git a chance."

"Come mornin'," Sandy replied, "when I can see my sights, I'll clean
the whole bunch out."

"Other people can see sights then. Kid, they got me rounded up. I ain't
no good except on a horse. If I could make a get-away I would. But I
can't. You can. There's no sense in both of us bein' wiped out. Also,
there's your folks. I ain't got any. And, then, I've lived longer than
you, and I've had a heap more fun. I'm plumb satisfied with the deal.
If I quit the game now I break better'n even. Shake hands and git out
o' here while you can."

"Forget it!" snapped Sandy. "Would _you_ quit _me_? Not any. D'ye think
I could look Casey in the face, or Sheila, or my old dad? Would one of
_them_ quit _you_? You bet they wouldn't. I'll see this through. Here,
gimme what rifle cartridges you got, and shut up that line of