“Give it to ’em.” Thus to Shepherd.
There were four pistol shots coming so close together as to sound like a volley.
One of the thieves, the one at whom Ramsey had shot, reeled and tumbled from his horse dead. The other reeled but did not fall, and Shepherd spurred on after him, not noticing that Ramsey did not follow. After galloping a short distance the second man fell from his saddle mortally wounded.
Turning then for the first time, Shepherd, who was unhurt, discovered that Ramsey had been knocked from his horse. He had been shot through and through, the ball passing near his heart. There was a ranch a few miles distant and Shepherd determined to make an effort to get his friend to it and to leave the thieves where they had fallen. “Dutch Pete” proved to be the man at whom Ramsey had directed his aim. He it was who had shot Ramsey. But Ramsey’s shot had gone straight home, passing through Pete’s heart. The other thief was also mortally wounded, and soon died. Their bodies were covered with stones and left where they had fallen. The stolen horses were gathered together and returned to their owner.
As for Ramsey, he was taken to the ranch referred to and given every possible attention. But after lingering on in great pain he died at 12 o’clock of the night succeeding the shooting—at the exact hour at which Mrs. Ramsey had had her startling and strange dream.
The body was then placed in the ranchman’s covered wagon, and the cortege started for Hayes City, meeting Mrs. Ramsey on the road.
It is useless to attempt to further describe the anguish of the poor woman. She refused to be comforted after her husband’s death, and two weeks after his funeral she was a raving maniac. Four months afterwards her unhappy spirit deserted the flesh and she joined her husband in the world beyond this.
A MEXICAN BANDIT.