“I’ve put the last shot in myself. If you’d been half an hour earlier I might have had a chance.”
“What’s the matter? What’s happened? Tom, give him a drink out of the flask.”
“No, give me water,” said the man. “I emptied my canteen this morning.”
Nick lifted his head and Tom held their canteen to his lips. He drank deeply, and as he lay down again he looked at Tom curiously.
“Two days ago I had a fight with two men, and I’ve been lying here ever since. They did me up, so that I knew I’d got to die if no help came. And I knew that was just about as likely as a snowstorm, but I couldn’t help bankin’ on the possibility. So I laid here two days and threw rocks at the coyote that came and sat on that heap of stones and waited for me to die. This morning I drank the last of the water and I said to myself that if nobody came by the time the sun was straight above that peak yonder I’d put a bullet into my heart. I had two left, and I used one on the coyote that had been a-settin’ on that rock watchin’ me the whole morning. I was bound he shouldn’t pick my bones, he’d been so sassy and so sure about it. You’ll find his carcass down the canyon a ways. That tired my arm and I waited and rested a spell before I tried it on myself. But I was weaker than I thought and I couldn’t hold the gun steady, and the bullet didn’t go where I meant it to. But I’m bleedin’ to death.”
“The two men—what became of them? I reckon they’re the ones we’re lookin’ for!” exclaimed Nick.
“Are you? Well, I guess you’ll find ’em scattered down the canyon, or else up there,” and he pointed to the mountain side above. “They couldn’t get very far.”
“Did you kill ’em?” asked Tom anxiously. “You’ve spoiled a job we’ve come here for if you did.”
The man scanned Tom’s face again and a light of recognition broke into his eyes. “I reckon I did,” he replied complacently. “Anyway, I hope so.”