The doctor expressed himself as only too glad to find that in spite of his trip, his services were not needed in camp. To Mr. Wilde’s apologies he said, “I have all I can do with a patient farther down the trail and since I am not needed here, I propose that we return to him and try to move him to Hermitage Rest where good care may possibly save his life. He is so far gone from loss of blood from his gunshot wounds that I may have to do a blood transfusion to save him, if I can get any one to volunteer to give him some of theirs.”
“I will!” Ed offered promptly, for he felt that this was his own particular patient and he felt glad that his efforts to get a doctor in a hurry were really useful after all.
All hands started down the trail at once to see Ed’s stranger, who had been left where he lay in charge of a man who volunteered as nurse. By daylight and with Buck, who knew the mountains as you know your own backyard, it took far less time to reach the stranger than it had taken Ed by night.
The wounded man lay on the ground, looking weaker than when Ed found him. At sight of his face, cap and sweater, Westy could not repress an exclamation, “Why, I’ve seen him before!” he gasped. “So have I,” added Mr. Wilde grimly—“he’s Bloodhound Pete’s partner.” At this identification, the man groaned.
“Where’s Pete?” demanded Mr. Wilde.
“He’s gone, but before he left he got me good,” muttered the man.
“Somebody crooked a wallet from Pete one night and he claimed I done it,” said the man, and then went on to tell this story. “So he beat me up next day and at de point of his gat he drove me miles out here where he said he could leave me dead and nobody would ever find it out but de buzzards. Den he shot at me and I run and he come after and I hid behind trees and shot at him, but he had two guns and he’s dead-eye with both. Pete’ll kill any pal he has if he thinks he turns on him. I ain’t the first he’s tried to do for. He wouldn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t crooked the swag off him. He said I was de only one in miles of him dat night. Well, he must of lost it hisself. I know I didn’t take it. Anyways, it was gone, and he shot me and left me for dead where de buzzards would of picked me bones in a couple more hours if it hadn’t a been for dis young kid.”
“This kid here,” said Mr. Wilde, pushing Westy forward, “is the one who outwitted Pete.”
“Well, he done for me, I guess,” snarled the man. “I ain’t never squealed on a pal before, but Pete done me dirt, and I’ll give him away now so de police can square wid him.”
It was this information which made it possible later for the mounted state police to pursue the notorious Bloodhound through the forests and eventually see that he was safely behind bars. Ed felt that in spite of Humpty Dumpty, his night’s work had not been in vain.