“Yes, it is I,” she said, laying her hand lightly on his forehead. “You must be good until Paul gets back.” “I’m done for, so the rest of the criminal calendar will have to go over. You can go back to—God’s country—sooner than you thought.” “I am not going back to—God’s country,” said Louise, unexpectedly. She had not meant to say it, but she meant it when she said it. “Come here, close to me, Louise,” said Gordon, in a low voice. He had forgotten the doctor. “You had better—I’ll get up if you don’t. Closer still. I want you to—kiss me before Paul gets back.” Louise grew whiter. She glanced hesitatingly at the doctor, timidly at the new lover in the old man. Then she bent over him where he lay stretched on the floor and kissed him on the lips. A great light came into his eyes before he closed them contentedly and slipped into unconsciousness again. Langford rounded up Jim Munson and sent him across with a stretcher, and then ran up stairs for an extra blanket off his own bed. It was bitterly cold, and Dick must be well wrapped. On the upper landing, he encountered Mary alone. Something in her desolate attitude stopped him. “What’s the matter, Mary,” he demanded, seizing her hands. “Nothing,” she answered, dully. “How is he?” “All right, I trust and pray, but hurt terribly, wickedly.” He did not quite understand. Did she love Gordon? Was that why she looked so heart-broken? Taking her face in his two hands, he compelled her to look at him straight. “Now tell me,” he said. “Did I kill him?” she asked. “Kill whom?” “Why, him—Jesse Black.” Then he understood. “Mary, my girl, was it you? Were those last shots yours?” All the riotous love in him trembled on his tongue. “Did I?” she persisted. “God grant you did,” he said, solemnly. “There is blood outside the window, but he is gone.” “I don’t like to kill people,” she said, brokenly. “Why do I always have to do it?” He drew her to him strongly and held her close against his breast. “You are the bravest and best girl on earth,” he said. “My girl,—you are my girl, you know,—hereafter I will do all necessary killing for—my wife.” He kissed the sweet, quivering lips as he said it. Some one came running up the stairs, and stopped suddenly in front of the two in the passage. “Why, Jim!” cried Langford in surprise. “I thought you had gone with the stretcher.” “I did go,” said Jim, swallowing hard. He shifted nervously from one spurred foot to the other. “But I came back.” He looked at Langford beseechingly. “Boss, I want to see you a minute, ef—Mary don’t mind.” “I will come with you, Jim, now,” said Langford with quick apprehension. “Mary,”—Jim turned away and stared unseeingly down the staircase,—“go back to your room for a little while. I will call for you soon. Keep up your courage.” “Wait,” said Mary, quietly. There were unsounded depths of despair in her voice, though it was so clear and low. “There was another shot. I remember now. Jim, tell me!”