“Pat, Pat, don’t kill him! Let him up! I think he will go.”
“I think he will, too. Here, take his gun—no, perhaps I had better take it along. I may need two of them. I only have six cartridges, and I have been carrying them some time. I may get a chance now to get rid of them, and I may need more.”
“Pat, get some water. I’m afraid you have killed him.”
“Well, he said he would die before he would go, and devil take him if he wanted to rush off in a hurry.”
“I see his mouth twitch. I hope he will revive soon.”
“I think he is saying to himself what he will do when he gets up, but if I have anny strength left, I think he will come along with me, as soon as he is able to walk, and nary stretcher will I carry him on, until I know he is indade a dead one. He went to fight back. I think when he comes to he will see that fighting is hard on the eyes. See the eye turn black, will you? You would think he had been dead a long while and was mortifying.”
“Come, Pat, help me to get him on his feet.”
“You had better let him rest easy where he is.”
“I am asking you for help, and I want it.”