Attracted by the shots, soon there came the sounds of hurrying feet and the murmur of many voices and, presently, a small concourse of excited and curious people began to gather in front of the cottage where the light was showing through the open door. The Sergeant stepped forward hastily.
“Quick!” he said. “One of you run up to the hotel and get Dr. Musgrave; he’s staying there. Quick! By G—d! This girl’s been shot, and she’s bleedin’ to death!”
And, in response to his appeal, two figures immediately detached themselves from the gathering and sped away. Turning back to the couch, he kneeled down and, ripping open the girl’s flimsy blouse, rolled his handkerchief into a pad and pressed it tightly over the wound. She lay quite still, with closed eyes, groaning occasionally with the deadly pain that wracked her, a bloody foam bubbling up from her lips at each gasping breath. Soon Musgrave came bursting in.
“Why, what’s this?” he said breathlessly.
“That fellow—with her,” answered Ellis disjointedly. “Wanted for murder—B.C.—went to arrest him—shot at me—hit her—instead— Can’t tell you now— Here, Charley!—look after her—goin’ after him—not far away—hit bad.”
He was on his feet as he spoke, swiftly ramming fresh shells into his gun; and, with one last look at the unconscious face, he jumped down the steps and started for the station via the direction that Harry had taken. A few of the more adventurous spirits attempted to follow him but he peremptorily ordered them back. Catching sight, though, of a face that he knew, he hastily beckoned its owner aside.
“See here; look, Wardle!” he said, in a tense undertone to the kindly-faced old man who officiated as postmaster in the little town. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s a girl in the house there, who’s been shot up pretty bad, an’ I think it’s all up with her.” He rapidly explained the situation to the other, adding: “You’re a J.P.... Don’t attempt to worry her if she’s too far gone, remember, but try an’ get a deposition off her if the doctor will allow it, an’ get him an’ somebody else to witness it.... Can’t stop now—got to get after this chap, quick!” And he hurried away.
A man swinging a railroad lamp came forward and accosted him, whom he recognized as the station agent.
“Look, now, Carey,” he said significantly, in response to the other’s excited offer of help. “Come, if you want to. But I tell you flat—you’re takin’ a big chance of gettin’ hurt. Douse that cursed light,” he added irritably, “or you’ll be makin’ a proper mark of us.”
The other promptly obeyed, and presently they reached the beginning of the platform. The Sergeant produced a small electric torch.