“Don’t stand an’ talk to a shot man,” I sez. “Allus get his gun first.”
Horace gave a jump at the sound o’ my voice, an’ covered me with his pop-gun. “Oh, it’s you, is it?” he sez. “Well, then, you get his gun; but I don’t much think he can use it.”
By the time I had lifted Badger’s gun, the other boys were arrivin’, an’ when they found that Horace had gone out alone an’ shot a hole through Badger-face, they certainly was some surprised. Purty soon Kit Murray came out with Olaf, an’ then Horace told about not feelin’ sleepy an’ bein’ so disgusted at the way we were snorin’ that he had got up to take a little stroll. He said he just went toward the corral ’cause that was the least uninterestin’ place he could think of, and that Badger had sneaked down an’ started to cut the stirrups off the saddles right before his eyes.
“I gave him all the time he wanted,” sez Horace, “so ’at there wouldn’t be any doubt as to his intentions. I reckon ’at cuttin’ up saddles in another man’s corral is goin’ about far enough, ain’t it?”
Just then the Friar finished his examination of Badger, an’ went after his saddle bags for a bandage. “Went clear through his lung,” was all he said as he passed us on the run.
It was purty chilly at that time o’ night; and as the cold began to eat in, it suddenly came over Horace that no matter how much justified he was, he had shot an’ most likely killed a feller human, an’ he began to shake. He went over to Badger-face an’ put his coat over him, an’ sez: “Great heavens! are ya goin’ to let this man lie out here in the cold till he dies? Ain’t the’ some place we can put him? This is horrible.”
“Bring him in the house,” sez Kit. “He don’t deserve it; but we can’t let him lie out here—can we, Olaf?”
“No,” sez Olaf. “If you say bring him in, in he comes.”
“That’s right, that’s fine. I don’t bear him any malice,” sez Horace. “I hope he gets over it an’ lives to repent.”
We packed him into the house an’ Kit made a fire an’ heated some water. As soon as the water was hot, the Friar cleaned out the wound with it an’ some foamy stuff out of a bottle. Then he dissolved a drab tablet in some water an’ tied up both openings. Horace sat in a corner durin’ this operation, with his head in his hands, shiverin’. The reaction had set in; an’ all of us knew what it was, though I don’t suppose any of us had had the chance to give way to it as free as Horace did.