Winch did laugh aloud. And then, keen-eyed to see the play of his employer's expression, he grew sober and said earnestly:
"On the level, Mr. Standing, how's the hurt comin' along? Been usin' the salve I told you to?"
Lynette, though he had ignored her presence or because of this very attitude of his, could not hold back from exclaiming:
"He has two wounds now! Another shot in the back! And he gives them less attention than a sane man would give a cut finger!"
"The old fool! No more sense than a rabbit! Shot again? Twice in the back? Plugged a second time? The old fool!"
Like a flash in his quick movements he was down from the saddle; he left his horse with dragging reins to wait for him; over the uneven ground he came forward rapidly, queerly, hopping like an oddly oversized bird. He caught at Standing's shoulder, crying out:
"Let me see them hurts! I tell you, I got to see them hurts! Shot twice from behind? You bloody baby. Let me look at 'em. Blood poison most likely settin' in!"
"I could kill you ... you interfering fool...."
But just then Billy Winch's one foot caught at a root and he came near falling, and Standing, instead of carrying out a threat, sprang toward him and steadied him; and Lynette saw a sincere rough affection in the way the big arms closed about Winch's body. Friends, these two.
"Who plugged you, Timber? And for the love of Mike, how come you to let it happen ... twice? But tell me: Who plugged you the second time?"