“‘TO SHOOT GENTLEMEN WITH?’ ASKED THE LITTLE GIRL IN AN AWE-STRUCK WHISPER.”
“To shoot gentlemen with?” asked the little girl in an awe-struck whisper.
“Yes—but they’d hit almost any kind of man if they were aimed right.”
“And have these ones done that—shot people, Uncle Jim?”
“I guess they never shot anybody very seriously, dear. The O’Dell who owned them was a kind man, like all the O’Dells before and since, and brave as a lion and steady as a rock and a dead-sure shot. So whenever he was fussed and tricked into proving he was a gentleman—which everybody knew already—by fighting with a fool, he’d shoot the other lad in the hand that held the pistol—or the elbow or maybe the shoulder. It wasn’t long before folks quit being rude to him.”
Just then Mrs. O’Dell entered the library. Marion closed the box, shoved it back beneath the bookcase and kissed McAllister good night.
Jim posted Sol Bear and Gabe Sacobie, charged them to keep a sharp lookout and armed them with sled stakes. Enthusiastic Indians were not to be trusted with explosive weapons on such a job as this at night. And he left Red Lily with them. With two good Indians and a red dog outside and a squaw and another red dog in the kitchen he felt that old Tim Hood would not accomplish any very serious damage no matter how spiteful and reckless he might be feeling. Then he set out for the spot in the wilderness, due north and four miles away, where he had left the sick man and Noel Sabattis and Red Chief.
Jim might have spared himself these elaborate precautions had he known that Tim Hood’s cowardice was still in excess of his rage. The old fellow still agreed with Mel Lunt, the thrice foiled but ever hopeful, that the safest and quickest way of getting in the first return blow at Jim McAllister was through the unfortunate Sherwood. So he continued to work with Lunt, to support the might and majesty of the law as interpreted by that persistent local constable. The O’Dell barns were not threatened that night. Sol and Gabe twirled their sled stakes in vain and at last fell asleep at their posts.
Jim found the camp without much difficulty. Sherwood was sleeping then but Noel said that he had been awake and raving for hours. Jim slept for an hour, then bathed and dressed the sick man’s hand and arm, with Noel’s assistance, dosed him with quinine and a full mug of cold water. All was quiet after that until about three o’clock, when Sherwood’s restlessness again awoke the others. Again they applied hot compresses to his arm and gave him water to drink and tucked his blankets securely around him.