"It seems it may cost us a good deal to kill that man," he said. "Go and see what terms he will make with me. An offer of a few good rifles would have some weight just now."
Ormsgill went, and crossing the hot space of dust and sand walked into the hut. Dazzled as he was by the change from the glare outside, he could see almost nothing for a moment or two. The place was also filled with an acrid haze, but by degrees he became accustomed to the dimness and made out Gavin lying against the wall. He looked up with a little wry smile, but Ormsgill moving nearer saw that his face was gray and drawn. There was dust on his thin duck clothing, and in two spots a small dark-colored stain.
"You are hit?" he said.
"Yes," said Gavin, "I'm done." He gasped before he spoke again with evident difficulty. "They plugged me twice before they made the last attempt. I could just hold the rifle. If they'd kept it up they'd have got in."
"Where's Herrero?"
Gavin appeared to glance across the hut, and Ormsgill saw a huddled figure lying in the shadow. It did not move at all.
"Yes," said Gavin, "I think the first bullet that came in quieted him, and I wasn't sorry. He was worrying me. Lost his nerve, though he never had very much. Well, I suppose you have come to make a bargain with me?"
"Something like that. Our friend yonder hinted that he would probably do a good deal for a few rifles."
Gavin smiled dryly. "It isn't worth while now. As you have no doubt noticed, I can hardly talk to you."
He stopped for a moment with a heavy gasp. "This was my last kick, you see."