"I'll live—I can't die! But Alcatraz … keep him from butcher
Hervey … keep him safe…."
Then his gaze fixed on the face of Oliver Jordan and his eyes widened in amazement.
"My father," she said, as she cut away the shirt to get at the wound.
"Him!" muttered Perris.
"Partner," said Oliver Jordan, wavering above the wounded man on his crutches, "what's done is done."
"Ay," said Perris, smiling weakly, "if you're her father that trail is sure ended. Marianne—get hold of my hand—I'm going out again … keep Alcatraz safe…."
His eyes closed in a faint.
Between the cook and Marianne they managed to carry the limp figure to the shelter of the arcade just as Hervey and his men thundered up to the closed gate of the patio, and there the foreman drew rein in a cloud of dust and cursed his surprise at the sight of the ranchman.
The group in the patio, and the shining form of Alcatraz, were self explanatory. His plans were ruined at the very verge of a triumph. He hardly needed to hear the voice of Jordan saying: "I asked you to get rid of a gun-fighting killer—and you've tried to murder a man. Hervey, get out of the Valley and stay out if you're fond of a whole skin!"
And Hervey went.