"It's not so bad." He tried to rise, but Zephyr restrained him.
"Not yet."
Élise was looking anxiously above the trail. Zephyr noted the direction.
"No danger. 'Twas Morrison. He's done for."
Three or four miners were coming down the trail. They paused at the little group. Zephyr looked up.
"You're wanted. The old man's hit."
A litter was improvised and slowly and carefully they bore the wounded man down the trail. Zephyr was far in advance. He returned.
"It's all right. The gang's on the run."
The little procession headed straight for the office, and laid their burden on the floor.
The company surgeon looked grave, as he carefully exposed the wound. To Élise it seemed ages.