“Got me in the leg,” he grunted; “but I made ’em pay for comin’ in without knockin’.”
He got carefully to his feet, yanked a blanket off the bed and managed to stumble over to the window, where he flung the blanket across the rough frame, cutting out the view from outside.
A bullet flicked in through the window and tore a slash in the blanket, but the latter remained in place. Roper was hopping on one foot along the wall, getting close to the door, when a man called from without—
“—— you, we’re comin’ after yuh!”
“Come on!” challenged Roper. “Open that door and grab a harp.”
Several bullets splintered through the door following his defiance, and one of them bit deeply into Roper’s ribs. He swayed closer to the door, but did not waste lead in reply.
Mrs. Kirk saw that Roper had been hit hard and started toward him, but he waved her back.
“Oh, why don’t you let them in?” she begged. “They will not hurt you. Why do you fight for us?”
“This ain’t no job for a woman and a sick man,” he stated hoarsely, “and it’s ’bout all I’m good fer.”
“Why did we ever come here?” said Mrs. Kirk weakly.