“Pretty sick, is he?”
“He is going to die, Thad.”
“Uh-huh, that’s what I expected him to do when I took a shot at him.”
The old prospector looked at Doctor Burton appealingly, as if there was another question which he longed, yet dreaded to ask.
Saint Jimmy evaded the unspoken question by asking:
“Have you guessed who that fellow, John Holt, really is, Thad?”
“He certain sure ain’t no decent prospector or he wouldn’t be tryin’ to carry away my gal like he’s doin’—that’s all I know.”
“He is Sonora Jack the outlaw. Natachee found it out.”
“Holy Cats! An’ I wasted a shot on a measly Mex when I might jest as well a-picked the king himself first. But what do you figger he wants to carry off my gal that-a-way for?”
“I wish we knew,” said Saint Jimmy.