"Doc, who is the dead man?"
"Dave Dockery."
A low murmur of regret and sorrow passed over the crowd, and the doctor added:
"He died soon after reaching the cabin."
"And t'other, Doc?"
"The bullet struck him in the head, slightly fracturing the bone, I fear, indenting it and causing a loss of reason, which I fear may never return to him."
"Poor fellow! better be dead, like poor Dave," said one, and this view was the thought of all.
"Pards, prepare for Dave's funeral to-morrow, and out of respect for him, let us close the saloon to-night, for I know Landlord Larry would wish it so."
A general murmur of assent followed, and the doctor continued:
"I wish two men as couriers at once, one to carry a note to Landlord Larry, for he can go to the scene of the hold-up, and start on the trail from there as soon as it is light enough to see."