“I found him about a mile from Kiopo,” panted Honey. “His cabin had been burned. They shot him, but he managed to hide away in the brush. I reckon he lost his mind and came crawlin’ out on to the side hill. I got shot at, too, when I was bringin’ him in, but they missed me.”
“How bad is he hurt?” asked Hartwell.
“Kinda bad, I reckon. He talked to me a while ago.”
Vane produced a flask and gave the old man a drink. The strong liquor brought a flush to his cheeks and he tried to grin.
“Good stuff!” he whispered wheezingly. “I ain’t dead yet. Need a doctor, I reckon.”
“I’ll get one right away,” said one of the cowboys, and bolted out after his horse.
“Who shot yuh, Ed?” asked Hartwell.
“I dunno, Marsh. They sneaked up on me, roped me tight and brought in the sheep next day. I heard ’em goin’ past the cabin. They knowed what I was there for. One of ’em told me. They knowed that the roundup was on, too. I managed to fight m’self out of them ropes, but it was too late.
“The sheep had all gone past. Some of them men was comin’ back toward the cabin and they seen me makin’ my getaway. I didn’t have no gun. They hit me a couple of times, but I crawled into a mesquite and they missed findin’ me.”
“Then they burned the cabin,” said Honey angrily.