"Do you--you think so?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
"Not being a doctor, I can't say anything certain. It depends on what direction the bullet took."
"Can I do anything?" put in Deb at this juncture. She had pushed her way past the farmer, and now stood by the young man's side.
"I guess not, Deb," Mont replied. "We haven't much at hand in the shape of hospital supplies," he added, soberly.
"Suppose we try to get him up to the house," suggested Farmer Farrell, without removing his eyes from the two who had caused all the mischief.
"I won't leave my gold and silver!" howled the miser. "Leave me here. Never mind my arm; it will soon get well. Only take those two men away."
Max Pooler struggled to his feet. The movement caused him intense pain, and he uttered a sharp groan.
"We can't do as he wishes," said Jack to Mont. "He might die, and we would never forgive ourselves."
"I know it," replied the other. "But it will be a hard matter to separate him from his money. Besides what shall we do with Mosey and Corrigan?"
"That's a sticker. If we had a rope I 'd bind them tighter than they ever bound me."