"I'm marshal now," he replied. "The police force has been done away with by the mayor and council." "Well then, I still have doubt about the safety of Comanche," she observed, turning from him. Governor Boyle approached Ten-Gallon and pointed to Hun Shanklin's body. "You must do something to get that carcass out of camp right away," he said. "Isn't there a deputy coroner at Comanche?" "The undertaker is," said Ten-Gallon, drawing back at the prospect of having to lay hands on the body of the man whom he feared in death as he had feared him in life. "Send him over here," Governor Boyle directed. Ten-Gallon departed on his mission, and the Governor took one of the trodden blankets from in front of the tent and spread it over Shanklin's body, shrouding it completely. Dr. Slavens had lowered the flap of the tent to keep the sun from the wounded man's face. When he came out, Agnes met him with an inquiring look. "He's conscious," said the doctor. "The blow of that heavy bullet knocked the wind out of him for a while." "Will he--lapse again?" asked the Governor, balancing between hope and fear. "It isn't likely. You may go in and speak to him now if you want to. But he must keep still. A little exertion might start a hemorrhage." Jerry Boyle lay upon his back, his bloodless face toward them, as they gathered noiselessly in the door of the tent. His eyes were standing open, great and questioning, out of his pallor, nothing but the animal quality of bewilderment and fear in their wide stare. Governor Boyle went in and dropped to his knees beside the cot. Dr. Slavens followed hastily, and placed his hand on the wounded man's breast. "You may listen," said he; "but keep still." "Don't even try to whisper," admonished the Governor, taking his son's hand between his own. "That's all right, Governor," replied the young man, his face quickening with that overrunning little crinkling, like wind over water, which was his peculiar gift for making his way into the hearts of women and men, unworthy as he was. "Be still!" commanded the old man. "I know what happened. There's nothing to say now." "Did I get him?" whispered Jerry, turning his head a little and looking eagerly into his father's face. The Governor placed his hand over his son's mouth, silencing the young man with a little hissing sound, like a mother quieting her babe. Agnes turned away, the disgust which she felt for this savage spirit of the man undisguised in her face. Dr Slavens cautioned the Governor again. "If he says another word, you'll have to leave him," said he. "This is one case where talk will turn out anything but cheap." He joined Agnes, and together they walked away from the scene of violence and death. "You're tired to death," said he. "I'm going to take possession of Boyle's tent down there for you, and you've got to take a long sleep. After that we'll think about the future."