The last numeral was but forming on the red lips when the renegade’s weapon shot up, and was discharged!
With a wild cry, Evan Harris reeled, and then fell heavily to the ground.
If he was dead—and as motionless as a corpse he lay—it was the foulest of murders.
“Bob take quick aim,” said Jack, audibly, with his eyes riveted upon the young ranger.
“Mebbe you think I took advantage? He was slow in raising, that is all, and the result is his fault.”
Hooker Jim now said that Rafe Todd did not fire until he had distinctly pronounced the last numeral, and, as the victim was one of their enemies, the chiefs who knew that he lied, did not dispute his asseverations.
“This score settled, now what do we do?” said the duelist, turning to Jack. “Must I take the secret trail that leads to the white tents? I am ready to do Mouseh any service he requests.”
“We stay here to-night,” said the chief, “and you will stay with us. Take care of your motherless fawn,” and he glanced at ’Reesa South, who began to show signs of returning consciousness.
The renegade turned and raised her from the ground.
“I know you,” she said, feebly. “You are Rafe Todd.”