“You got Splinter’s gun, didn’t yuh?”
Andy nodded slowly.
“Yeah. One cartridge had been fired. It’s out in the desk, if yuh want
to see it, Bob.”
“Never mind. I’m goin’ over and talk with Doc Knowles. Take it easy,
Splinter.”
“That’s ---- good advice,” said Splinter dryly.
Bob went up the street and into Doctor Knowles’ office, where he found
the doctor in a chloroform scented atmosphere.
“Is that cowboy still alive, doc?” he asked.
“Yes, he’s alive yet, and I think he’ll pull out of it, but he sure had
a close call, Kern. The bullet skidded on a rib and missed his heart.
He’s tough. The shock of the bullet almost killed him. What’s got into
this country?”
Bob shook his head.
“I dunno, doc. Didja take the bullets out of Gunnin’ yet?”
The doctor opened a drawer of his desk and took out a crumpled envelope,
from which he took two lumps of lead. One was badly battered, but the
other was almost in its original form. Bob looked them over closely and
handed them back to the doctor.
“Keep ’em for me, will yuh, doc?” requested Bob. “Yuh never can tell
when I’ll want ’em.”
“Certainly. Did you see John the Baptist?”
“Yeah, and he’s all hunkydory, doc. And yuh think that Mellody will pull
through?”
“Unless I’m badly mistaken. He’s unconscious yet from shock and loss of
blood, but he’ll pull through. He was soaked with whisky and I guess he
never felt the pain of it, but he’ll yelp when he wakes up.”
Bob grinned and thanked him, as he went back to the street. Pastry Pell
was just riding up to the hitch-rack and he waited for Bob to cross to
him.
“You sure ride fast,” grinned Pastry. “Your dust ain’t settled yet,
Kern.”
“No, and it ain’t goin’ to settle either,” said Bob meaningly.
Pastry trailed him into the Buck Horn, and Bob went straight to the
crowd around the poker table.
“That cowboy ain’t dead, Buck,” he stated, “and Doc Knowles says he’ll
live. I’ll buy a drink for the house.”
Nobody refused the invitation, and they lined up at the bar.
“Splinter was wonderin’ just how he stood in that poker game when it
busted up,” stated Bob to Kelly. “He’s kinda hazy over it yet.”
Kelly scratched his nose and grew very thoughtful.
“Danged if I know, Kern. Splinter bought either five or ten dollars
worth of chips, and I don’t know just how he stood. Anyway, I’ll give
him a ten-spot, just to be on the safe side.”
“Tha’sall right,” nodded Bob.
“Is anythin’ bein’ done to catch Barr Wyeth?” questioned a cowboy.
Kelly laughed.
“I reckon everybody is waitin’ for the reward to be announced. Andy
can’t get anybody to take the deputy job, and he ain’t got no jailer
to take care of his prisoner now; so he’s kinda up against it.”
“I’m goin’ to take that job,” announced Bob seriously.
“You are?” laughed Kelly. “What’s the idea, Kern?”
“Just want to show off, I reckon,” grinned Bob. “Mebbe somebody’ll take
a shot at me, I dunno.”
Andy Allard had come into the saloon in time to hear Bob’s declaration,
and now he shoved his way to Bob’s side.
“You mean that, Bob?” he asked anxiously.
“Sure thing.”
Andy did a double-shuffle and slapped Bob on the back.
“Hurrah for our side! There’s fifteen hundred dollars reward for Barr
Wyeth. The county offers a thousand and the State gives a measly five
hundred.”
“Dead or alive?” asked a cowboy.
“For the arrest and conviction,” stated Andy. “Yuh can’t convict a dead
man, can yuh?”
Kelly laughed shortly.
“Yuh might arrest him, but yuh never will convict him.”
“Why not?” asked Andy.
“After what he’s done?” queried Kelly. “You’ll have a ---- of a time
savin’ him for trial.”
“Maybe he never done it,” said Bob slowly.
“That would be hard to prove.”
“Yeah, it--might,” admitted Bob slowly. “Anyway, I hope this Mellody
person lives.”
“What do yuh know about him?” asked Andy.
“Too danged little. It’s the things I want to know about him, Andy. I’m
wonderin’ who told him that the Ten-Bar-B outfit was located here.”
“Whatcha want to find them for?” asked a cowboy.
“They sell their cows cheap,” explained Bob, “and I’d like to buy some
stock cheap.”
“Mebbe the jasper that robbed John the Baptist had the same idea,”
suggested Andy.
“I’ll ask him--some day,” smiled Bob, “and I don’t care whether he
answers me or not. Let’s go over and talk to my drunken, gun-fightin’
bunkie.”
Bob and Andy started across the street, when Doctor Knowles came out of
his office and motioned for them to come over there.
“Mellody is conscious now,” he stated, “and perhaps he can answer a few
questions if you’ve got anything important to ask him.”
They followed the doctor into a bedroom at the rear of the house, where
Mellody had been placed. He stared at the ceiling, muttering foolishly.
“Delirious again,” grumbled the doctor. “He was all right a minute ago.
Asked about Splinter and a man by the uncommon name of Smith.”
“Yeah?” Bob was interested. “Say anythin’ else?”
“No, not much. Didn’t remember getting shot, I guess.”
Mellody’s clothes had been carelessly thrown on a chair, and one of the
boots attracted Bob’s attention. He picked it up and looked it over. The
boots were nearly new, but a chunk had been torn out of the edge of the
sole, and above that, just at the bulge of the little toe, there was a
decided crease in the leather.
Bob handed the boot to Andy and called his attention to the damaged
sole.
“Looks like a bullet done that,” observed Andy. “It ain’t been done long
ago either.”