"Sims, if there is any water in your canteen hand it over. Good; here,
Marshal, use this. Now, Sims, note what I say carefully, and don't
waste a minute. Tell the first sergeant to send a file of men up here
with some sort of litter, on the run. Then you ride to the Herndon
house--the yellow house where the roads fork, you remember,--and tell
Miss Naida Gillis (don't forget the name) that Mr. Hampton has been
seriously wounded, and we are taking him to the hotel. Can you
remember that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then off with you, and don't spare the horse."
He was gone instantly, and Brant began bathing the pallid, upturned
face.
"You'd better lie down, Marshal," he commanded. "You're pretty weak
from loss of blood, and I can do all there is to be done until those
fellows get here."
In fifteen minutes they appeared, and five minutes later they were
toiling slowly down to the valley, Brant walking beside his still
unconscious rival. Squads of troopers were scattered along the base of
the hill, and grouped in front of the hotel. Here and there down the
street, but especially about the steps of the Occidental, were gathered
the discomfited vigilantes, busily discussing the affair, and cursing
the watchful, silent guard.
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