"I've only got to say that I'll take pleasure in settling your hash for this," Bothwell cried angrily.
"I'm not Mr. Mott. You'll not find it so easy to murder me. Move!"
Bothwell disappeared with a curse. I retired into the saloon.
Evelyn was standing near the door with a face in which I could read both anxiety and anger.
"Why do you expose yourself like that?" she cried.
"I wanted to see what was going on."
"You'll be shot. Then what shall we do?"
"There's not much danger yet, and I must keep in touch with our friends forward. Don't you think we had better get your patient to bed?"
"I'm all right, sir," Dugan spoke up faintly.
"He ought to be kept quiet for a day or two," his young nurse decided.