"I'm hit, boys!" he said and then sagged over across Dick's knees.
"'I'M HIT, BOYS!' HE SAID."
They laid him on hay and horse blankets in the bottom of the pung and covered him with fur robes. Then Sacobie got up in front and drove.
No sound except the rapping of a woodpecker came from the woods. Peter breathed regularly. Presently he opened his eyes.
"It's in the ribs, by the feel of it—but it doesn't hurt much," he said. "Felt like a kick from a horse at first. Remember not to say anything about Jim Hammond."
They put him to bed at the first farmhouse they reached. All his clothing on the right side was stiff with blood. Dick bandaged the wound; and a doctor arrived two hours later. The bullet had nipped in and out, splintering a rib, and lay just beneath the skin. Peter had bled a good deal, but not to a dangerous extent.
Before sunrise the next morning Dick and Frank Sacobie set out on their return journey, taking with them a brief telegram and a letter for Capt. Long. Peter had dictated the message, but had written the letter with great effort, one wavery word after another.
Mr. Hammond and John Starkley reached Pike Settlement late at night. The storekeeper seemed broken in spirit, but some color came back to his face when he saw Peter lying there in the bed at the farmhouse with as cheerful an air as if he had only strained his ankle.