"I reckon it did," assented the bandit-chieftain.
All the while the two outlaws had been walking toward where the rest of the notorious band were standing, making an examination of their wounds.
"Any of the bucks' shots get you fellows bad?" asked the bandit-chieftain, anxiously, as he swept the little group with his eyes.
"Sam's got it the worst," returned Frank.
Muttering an imprecation, Jesse strode to where Dirks was standing.
"Where'd they hit you, Sam?" he asked.
"In the shoulder, the right one."
With tender fingers, the world-famous desperado cut away the blood-soaked clothes, while his men gathered about to learn the extent of their pal's injuries.
As the red, angry looking flesh was exposed to view, they uttered various exclamations.