“Is he killed?” The girl’s voice was sharp and hard.
“No, he ain’t,” Penhallow’s hearty voice broke in. “It takes more than one bullet to kill a tough bird like Scotty.”
Marc opened his eyes, grinned feebly and shut them again, not before he had seen Polly’s anxious face bending over him.
“Not a bit of it, old man,” Hard broke in. Then to Polly: “We thought Pachuca had carried you off.”
Polly stared at him in horror. “Carried me off?” she gasped. “Were those men——” she paused, dazed. Hard explained.
Sam Penhallow in the meantime had tackled his prospective son-in-law.
“Where’d they get him, Ed?”
“Shoulder. Don’t look to me like no vital spot.”
“Well, we ain’t all got our vitals as protected as you have, Ed,” replied the sheriff, scathingly. “What was you up here for, anyhow?”