"Who's me?"
"'Rast—'Rast Little. I think I'm dyin'."
There was a hurried consultation indoors, and then Roscoe bravely ventured out to the sidewalk.
"Are you shot, 'Rast?" he asked in trembling tones.
"No; I'm just wounded. Is Rosalie in there?"
"Yep. She's—"
"I guess I'll go in, then. Dern it! It's a long walk from our house over here. I guess I'll stay all night. If I don't get better to-morrow I'll have to stay longer. I ought to be nursed, too."
"Rosalie's playin' nurse fer Mr. Bonner," volunteered Roscoe, still blocking the gate through which 'Rast was trying to wedge himself.
"Mr. who?"
"Bonner."