CHAPTER VIII—THE MEXICAN ESCAPES
Mason’s heart beat violently as he held the dead weight of the girl in his arms. Tenderly he laid her down and hastily made a pillow of his coat to support her head. There was a spring close by and he filled his hat with the cool water and bathed her temples. His efforts were rewarded by a flutter of her eyelids just as Scotty came up and joined them. With a little gasp the girl rose weakly to her feet and stared with dilated eyes at Powers. He was lying on the ground with both hands clutched to his side and groaning.
“Is he dying?” The girl motioned the question to them with dry lips.
“He’s turned his last trick,” Scotty answered, grimly. “The bullet struck him in a vital spot. I had him covered for over five minutes, but didn’t dare fire for fear of hitting you.”
Josephine gave him a grateful look.
“I want to thank you both for saving my life,” she said in a voice deep with emotion.
Scotty mumbled something under his breath and seemed pleased at her praise, while Mason silently pressed her offered hand, his voice too full for words.
“Come, take me home,” she requested with a shudder, after glancing again at Powers.
The outlaw breathed his last just as they were taking their departure. They planned to send Bud and his men back to look after the removal of his body.
“Powers got his just desert,” was Scotty’s comment, as they made their way down the gorge.