The back
door, too, was closed, and not a ray of daylight entered the room
except at the port-hole where Bub, with a Winchester, had been
standing on guard. By the light of the fire she saw her father's
giant frame stretched out on the bed and she heard his laboured
breathing. Swiftly she went to the bed and dropped on her knees
beside it.
"Dad!" she said. The old man's eyes opened and turned heavily
toward her.
"All right, Juny. They shot me from the laurel and they might nigh
got Bub. I reckon they've got me this time."
"No--no!" He saw her eyes fixed on the matted blood on his chest.
"Hit's stopped. I'm afeared hit's bleedin' inside." His voice had
dropped to a whisper and his eyes closed again. There was another
cautious "Hello" outside, and when Bub again opened the door Dave
ran swiftly within. He paid no attention to June.
"I follered June back an' left my hoss in the bushes. There was
three of 'em." He showed Bub a bullet hole through one sleeve and
then he turned half contemptuously to June:
"I hain't done it"--adding grimly--"not yit. He's as safe as you
air. I hope you're satisfied that hit hain't him 'stid o' yo'
daddy thar.
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