"So," said Kidd, "you were unable to fulfil my charge, and have brought back no information beyond this attack on you?"
"I saw nobody but that one man. If he who sent the second shot had joined in that 'booting,' the boys would have only picked up a pancake."
"This is painfully strange!"
"Oh, I think it strangely painful!"
"What kind of man was your assailant?"
"That's the puzzle," replied the railing Parisian. "By the voice, a white man. But I did not see him. It was so dark, and he was on me like a tiger! And then he kept me rolling over and over, so that I had not one fair peep at his nose. I shall only know him again by the length of his foot and the tone of his voice."
"If that's all, bah!—We'll take care of him, mates."
After the excitement of his telling the misadventure, French Paul was dull and lifeless; then he raved with pain, for he had not a dollar's breadth of his body without a bruise. Yet he bore the dressing and anointing with crude kerosene oil and snake juice with fortitude. Next begging a drink, and "freezing" to the bottle, he went to sleep drunk. His last words were: "Don't you fret, boys—any of you that I owe money to. I shall come up smiling; for him that's borned to be hanged won't be kicked to death no how."
Meanwhile Captain Kidd strayed into his tent very thoughtfully after having enjoined Corky Joe to exercise the utmost vigilance.
For years upon years this desperado had struggled against society, and sported with all laws and regulations; but now he saw the horizon circle in upon him. He could not drive away the foreboding that the hour of a terrible punishment was approaching. All night long he walked up and down in the tent, revolving the most fantastic projects. A few minutes before sunrise, a man coughed at the tent opening in that warning way customary where men sleep with weapons in the hand, and might, if abruptly awakened, put a bullet mechanically in the innocent arouser. The cloth was lifted and a man appeared, whom Captain Kidd greeted with joy.