"Who was it got me?" questioned Overland as he was revived a second time.
"I don't know," replied Williams. "The only distinguishin' brand on him was one I put there. It ain't worryin' him now."
"Like old times," said Overland, trying to smile.
"Like old times," echoed Williams.
"I guess it was Parks," murmured Overland. "He had plenty of chance. I wasn't after him."
Slowly the group of horsemen rode across the desert. The afternoon sun made queer shadows of them and their mounts. Billy Dime rode bent forward. His face was white and beaded with sweat. Overland, on Long's pony, was supported by Miguel and Brand Williams. Pars Long had disappeared in the shadows of the range.
Billy Dime's eyes grew strangely bright. He laughed, gazing at the foreman's back. "The whole damn fuss was wrong, wrong, I tell you! We had no business shootin' up that town."
"But it was considerable pleasure," said Bud Light. "You're off your bean, Billy. I guess you forget what they did to Collie."
Billy Dime leered. The fever from his wound was working through his blood. "Don't pertend to me, Bud Light, that you come on this little pasear on account of Collie. It was her eyes that said to go. You know that. She never said words, but her eyes said to go—and to kill! Do you get that? That's what a woman can do to a man, without sayin' a word. And what did Collie ever do for me? Look at that arm. Look at it! What did Collie ever do for me to get shot up this way?" And Billy Dime began to weep. "I killed two of 'em—two of 'em. I saw 'em drop. I was drawin' fine—fine, I tell you, and I couldn't miss."