This left two on my record unaccounted for. We soon spied them making off over the little hills towards Brick Dust Canyon as fast as their legs could carry them.
One of them was “Apache Kid,” the leader. He got off with a whole skin, but I’ll wager that he had some marks about his face.
When we got down from the roof we could no longer hear Mrs. Smith or the babe, and feared they had been killed by stray bullets. Repeated calls failed to bring response.
When we forced an entrance we found her in a dead faint, lying on the bed beside the infant, who was chewing his fist and chuckling as if in great glee.
Woman-like, Mrs. Smith deferred her swoon till all danger was past.
To the delight of McGill, his miserable briar was recovered that day by Jim, who said he did not want the well spoiled, otherwise he would have left it there.
“Shot-gun Jim”—for that is how he is always known now, on account of his fearful execution with his shot-gun, for it was he who really saved the day—has never been troubled by Apaches since. He still insists on living in that forsaken spot, forgetful of the terrible scenes of carnage and danger he has passed through, working at a copper mine which he discovered up beyond Brick Dust Canyon.
