“I’ve been hit, stranger, and have lost a little blood, but it is nothing bad, only a flesh wound. I stayed too long before I had it seen to,” said the robber, as he sank down near Mainwaring on a pile of buffalo robes.
Then turning to the man who came with him he said:
“Hunt up Dolph Lowell, and tell the cuss to go up above and watch them fellows, or some of ’em will climb the cliff. They’re the sharpest crowd I’ve ever had dealin’s with. There’s one fellow there that shoots the closest I ever knew.”
“Wild Bill, maybe, is the man you mean,” said Mainwaring. “He is one of the best shots on the plains.”
“’Twas him that hit me, and I didn’t think they could see a square inch when I crept up where I could see what they were doing, for they seemed to be holding some kind of a palaver, but I didn’t get my head out before a ball raked my shoulder.
“Jeff Perkins is dead; he got an ounce ball through his neck while he was in a tree. They’re wide awake; but when it comes to daylight we’ll have a fair show—we can pick them off till they’re sick of staying around here.”
The man who went for Dolph Lowell came back and reported that he couldn’t find him.
“The lazy cuss has gone to sleep, I suppose,” said Harkness, “or hid away somewhere. Since he couldn’t be captain he hasn’t wanted to be anything. Go up above yourself, Jake Durn, and look to the boys. After I’ve had my wound dressed and taken a nip to bring the life back I’ll try and crawl up again myself. I wish it was daylight—we’d make that crowd sick then in a hurry.”
The man called Jake Durn now hurried away, and the robber called Lize over to dress his wound.
She did this with a speed and skill that told she was used to such work, and after the wound was dressed she brought a bottle of liquor to Harkness.