Two factors had served to save the outlaw's life: One that the Indian behind him had struck him a glancing blow, and the other that Jesse James' skull was too thick to break by any ordinary means.
But the blow had been a terrific one and the outlaw's head throbbed like a locomotive under full headway.
He emitted a subdued groan and tried to move. To his surprise he found he could not.
He was now conscious of shooting pains through his whole body. His arms were stretched above his head, and when he sought to draw them down by his side, he found he could not move them.
Jesse cautiously tried to move his feet, but like the arms, these also refused to respond to his will.
"That's queer," he thought. "I wonder if I'm dead."
He tried to recall the incidents that had preceded his present condition, but his mind was sluggish and just as he would almost come upon a solution of his strange condition, memory would elude him again.
He tried to open his eyes, but the eyelids seemed held down by some irresistible weight.
For a time the desperado sought to gratify the sensation of drowsiness that seemed to steal over him. Then he would suddenly awake with a start, the pain in his body more intense than before.
At last with a mighty effort of will he dragged his heavy eyelids open. At first he could see nothing for the darkness, then little by little he made out his surroundings.