“Did you see the man who shot at you?” asked Marion.
“I never knew I was shot, until I woke up, Marion. You had just gone into the hotel, and I started to cross the street, when I saw a big flash, like an explosion. But I never heard the noise.”
The doctor washed and sewed up the wound. It was a painful proceeding, but Jimmy gritted his teeth and did not make a sound.
“You better get a room here at the hotel and go to bed,” advised the doctor. But Jimmy refused.
“I’m all right,” he insisted. “It aches a little, but not enough to put me in bed. Gee, it sure knocked me out!”
“And you’re lucky to be alive,” said the doctor, packing his kit-bag. “An inch further to the right, and you’d have no top on your head right now.”
The crowd was just outside the door, waiting for the doctor to finish, and they crowded in, hardly giving the doctor a chance to wiggle his way out into the hall. Jimmy held out his hand to Marion, disregarding the clamoring cowboys.
“Thank you,” he said. “It was nice of you to stay with me.”
Marion colored slightly, and her reply was drowned in Johnny Grant’s greeting.
“Hyah, Topknot! Howsa head, Jimmy?”