Sogun looked perplexedly at Sanderson, whose face was close.
There was recognition in Sogun's eyes—the calm of reason was swimming in them.
He half smiled. "So you wriggled out of it, boss, eh? It was a clean-up, for sure. I seen them get the other boys. I emptied my gun, an' was fillin' her again when they got me."
"Who?" demanded Sanderson sharply.
"Dale an' his gang. They was a bunch of them—twenty, mebbe. I heard them while I was layin' here. They thought they'd croaked me, an' they wasn't botherin' with me.
"One of them waved a blanket—or a tarp. I couldn't get what it was. Anyway, they waved somethin' an' got the herd started. I heard them talkin' about seein' Soapy go under, right at the start. An' you. Dale said he saw you go down, an' it wasn't no use to look for you. They sure played hell, boss."
Sanderson did not answer.
"If you'd lift my head a little higher, boss, I'd feel easier, mebbe," Sogun smiled feebly. "An' if it ain't too much trouble I'd like a little more of that water—I'm powerful thirsty."
Sanderson went to the river, and when he returned Sogun was stretched out on his back, his face upturned with a faint smile upon it.
Sanderson knelt beside him, lifted his head and spoke to him. But Sogun did not answer.