"His number's up," groaned the American.
"Done in by a copper!" marvelled 'Erb, and, putting his arm across his face, he leaned against the nearest horse and sobbed.... He was a child-like person, and, without knowing it, had come to centre all his powers of affection on John Bull.
The dying man opened his eyes. "Got it where the chicken got the axe," he whispered. "Good-bye, Buck.... See you in the ... Happy Hunting Grounds ... I hope."
The Bucking Bronco looked at Rupert.
"Carmelita put thisyer brandy in my pocket, Rupert," he said producing a medicine bottle. "Shall I dope him?"
He coughed and swallowed, his mouth and chin twitched and worked, and tears trickled down his face.
"Can't do much harm," said Rupert, and took the bottle from the American's shaking hand.
The brandy revived the mortally wounded man.
"Good-bye, Rupert," he said. "I advise you to go straight down to Les Imberts station ... and take the next train.... There will be a patrol ... after this patrol ... before long. You can't lie up here for long now.... Buck might take a horse and gallop for it.... Lie up somewhere else.... And ride to Oran to-night.... 'Erb should go as Rupert's servant ... or by a different train.... Remember Mendoza's tips."
The stertorous, wheezy breathing was painfully interrupted by a paroxysm of coughing.