"What!" he cried, harshly. "Leave me! Why, you good for nothin'----"
In his anger he raised his wounded arm as if to strike. Jack sprang forward to defend the young girl.
But his caution was unnecessary, for at the same instant Max Pooler gave a sharp gasp of pain, and wavering backward and forward for a second, fell heavily to the floor.
Deb and Meg both gave a shriek, Jack and Mont turned the wounded man over on his back.
"Is he--he dead?" asked Deb. She was white, and trembled all over.
"No, only exhausted," replied Mont, after applying his ear to the miser's breast. "His passions hold him completely under control."
"Then he is to be more pitied than blamed," said the girl, sympathetically.
The wound had again commenced to bleed. Mont adjusted the bandage that had become displaced, but this seemed to do little good.
"I will run to the cottage, and get anything you want," put in Meg, gazing with softened features at the unconscious form.
"All right," replied Mont, and he named several things which he thought might be used to advantage. "And don't forget plenty of linen, and some cotton if you have it," he added.