"Will he—will he die?" whispered Lydia.
"Of course not," answered Amos, with a quick glance at the blanched little face. "He's got to have good nursing and he can't be moved. Lizzie's as good a nurse as any one could want. Doctor'll be back at midnight and stay the rest of the night."
"Who did it, Daddy?"
Amos shook his head. "It might have been Charlie Jackson or it might have been a dozen others. A sheriff's liable to have plenty of enemies. Billy started a bunch hunting."
Lydia shivered.
"Go to bed, child," said Amos. "We're going to be busy in this house for a while."
"I want to see him first, please, Daddy."
"Just a peek then, don't make a noise."
Already the living room had a sick room aspect. The light was lowered and the table was littered with bandages and bottles. Lydia crept up to the couch and stood looking down at the gaunt, quiet figure.
John opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "Making you lots of trouble, young Lydia."