"Good God, don't shoot, you fool!" cried Shorty Smith, while Long Bill made a stride toward the frenzied old man. Livingston's heart stood still. He was some distance away and, as usual, unarmed. For an instant he stopped short, paralyzed by the sight. Then the girl wheeled her horse suddenly about as if to obey the command. As she did so a report rang out and old Peter, with the flesh ripped from wrist to elbow, rolled over in a convulsed heap. It was all so sudden that it seemed unreal. Hope sat on her quivering horse, motionless, serene, holding in her hand a smoking revolver. Long Bill and his companion stood like statues, dumfounded for the instant, but Livingston, with a bound, was at the girl's side, his face white, his whole being shaken. "Thank God!" he cried in great tenderness. "You are all right!" "What made you come here?" she exclaimed in sudden nervousness, which sounded more like impatience. Then their eyes met. Her own softened, then dropped, until they rested upon the gun in her hand. A flush rose to her face and her heart beat strangely, for in his eyes she had seen the undisguised love of a great, true soul. For an instant she was filled with the wild intoxication of it, then the present situation, which might now involve him, returned to her with all its seriousness. The danger must be averted at once, she decided, before he learned the actual truth. "Poor old man!" she exclaimed. Then turned to Long Bill and his companion. "I'm awfully sorry I had to hurt him, but he actually made me nervous! I had an idea he was crazy, but I never believed he was perfectly mad. He ought to be watched constantly and all dangerous weapons kept away from him. Didn't you know he was dangerous?" Shorty Smith suddenly rose to meet the situation. "I knowed he was crazy," he said, "but I didn't know he was as plumb locoed as that." "Well, he's out of business for awhile," remarked the girl. "You boys better bandage up his arm and carry him into the house. I'll send over old Mother White Blanket when I get back. I guess you can get in the calves by yourselves all right, for really I feel very shaken and I think I'll go right home. You'll go with me, won't you, Mr. Livingston. But the poor old crazy man! You boys will take good care of him, won't you--and let me know if I can be of any assistance." "Well, what do yo' think?" asked Shorty Smith, as Hope and her companion disappeared from the basin. "What'd I think?" exclaimed Long Bill. "I think we've been pretty badly _done_!" "Oh, I don't know," drawled Shorty Smith, "I reckon she ain't goin' to say nothin' about _me_!" CHAPTER XVIII