"
"It will mean," said Drew, apparently thinking aloud, "that the guilt of
murder does not fall on Anthony."
"Who is Anthony?"
The wounded man broke in; his voice rose high and sharp: "Halt!"
He went on, in a sighing mumble: "Shorty--help--I'm done for!"
"The shooting," said the doctor, who had kept his fingers on the wrist
of his patient; "I could feel his pulse leap and stop when he said
that."
"He said 'halt!' first; a very clear sign that he tried to stop Bard
before Bard shot. Doctor, you're witness to that?"
He had grown deeply excited.
"I'm witness to nothing. I never dreamed that you could be so interested
in any human being."
He nodded to himself.
"Do you know how I explained your greyness to myself? As that of a man
ennuied with life--tired of living because he had nothing in the world
to occupy his affections. And here I find you so far from being ennuied
that you are using your whole strength to keep the guilt of murder away
from another man. It's amazing. The boys will never believe it."
He continued: "A man who raised a riot in your own house, almost burned
down your place, shot your man, stole a horse--gad, Drew, you are
sublime!"
But if he expected an explanatory answer from the rancher he was
disappointed.
Pages:
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334