n the South, he'd
have known it wasn't necessary to do that in self-preservation, as the
hounds would never have gone for a white man. But that was not a matter
for the colonel to bother about NOW. He was doing well; he had slept
nearly thirty hours; there was no fever, he must continue to doze off
the exhaustion of his powerful stimulant, and he, the doctor, would
return later in the afternoon.

Perhaps it was his very inability to grasp in that exhausted state the
full comprehension of the doctor's meaning, perhaps because the physical
benumbing of his brain was stronger than any mental excitement, but he
slept again until the doctor reappeared. "You're doing well enough now,
colonel," said the physician, after a brief examination of his patient,
"and I think we can afford to wake you up a bit, and even let you move
your arm. You're luckier than poor Tom Higbee, who won't be able to
set his leg to the floor for three weeks to come. I haven't got all the
buckshot out of it yet that Jack Dumont put there the other night."

Courtland started slightly. Jack Dumont! That was the name of Sally Dows
cousin of whom Champney had spoken! He had resolutely put aside from his
returning memory the hazy recollection of the young girl's voice--the
last thing he had heard that night--and the mystery that seemed to
surround it. But there was no delusion in this cousin--his rival,
and that of the equally deceived Champney. He controlled himself and
repeated coldly:--

"Jack Dumont!"

"Yes. But of course you knew nothing of all that, while you were off
in the swamp there. Yet, by Jingo! it was Dumont's shooting Higbee that
helped YOU to get off your nigger a darned sight more than YOUR killing
the dogs."

"I don't understand," returned Courtland coldly.

"Well, you see, Dumont, who had taken up No'th'n principles, I reckon,
more to goad the Higbees and please Sally Dows than from any conviction,
came over here that night. Whether he suspected anything was up, or
wanted to dare Higbee for bedevilment, or was only dancing attendance on
Miss Sally, no one knows. But he rode slap into Highee's party, called
out, 'If you're out hunting, Tom, here's a chance for your score!'
meaning their old vendetta feud, and brings his shot-gun up to his
shoulder. Higbee wasn't quick enough, Dumont lets fly, drops Higbee, and
then gallops off chased by the Reeds to avenge Higbee, and followed
by the whole crowd to see the fun, which was a little bet