It was all over. I heard Gonzales curse above all the other noises. And then, as I stood there, sick, knowing I must drop in a minute, I saw a change on the faces in front of me. Things were swimming considerable and I smiled at my own foolishness. I must have lost sight for a second, for when I saw again, the crowd was leaving, tight as they could pelt. As I gracefully put my ear in a spittoon, I heard a tremendous firing, and the next minute, through the doorway, beheld the soles of barefooted soldiers' feet. Somebody shook me by the shoulders. I came out of dreamland long enough to see Pedro with the tears running down his face. "Beel!" he screamed; "Beel! by the mercy of God, it is Señor Holton with men!" Then his voice changed. "What ees eet? You are hurt, no?" "No," says I. "I just wanted to listen to the spittoon." I reckon that joke was too much for me, in my condition. It takes a strong man to stand the wear of things like that. Anyhow, my next appearance in active life found me all bandaged up neat as a Sailors' Home, and a very nice-looking gentleman holding my wrist with one hand, with a glass of truck to throw into me in the other, and Jim was swearing a prayer to the doctor not to let me go. "Oh, I wasn't thinking of going anywhere," says I, to relieve his mind. "What are you laughing at? I wasn't." "That's right, Bill," says Jim, taking my hand. "Just stay right here." The doctor fed me something that I felt clear down to my toes, still keeping his hand on the wrist. "Good!" says he. "The effect of shock is over--it's only the lost blood now--he must have lost a gallon, from his appearance." "Durn careless of me," says I, still hazy. "But what in thunder am I doing here? What's all this about?" "Lie down, Bill," says Jim. "You have three knife-cuts and four bullet-holes in you." "I have?" says I, rousing up. "Well, then, why didn't I holler for water?" "You did," says Jim. "There, there!" says the doctor. "No more talk! Lie still, young man, and sleep, if you can." It was two days later when I got particulars. Seems I was out of my head for four hours, and like to die any minute; that I had a hole in the lower leg, another in the hip, a streak across the top of my head, and a bullet in the shoulder. Also a slash across the right hand, and another on the right forearm, and a stab in the same upper arm. I suppose that was during the hand-to-hand at the window and the door. I have a faint memory of getting the knife by pulling it out of my own arm. But the bullet-holes knocked me. I don't remember getting shot at all--only a dizziness when one man fired in my face. I guess that was the streak across the head. I was the star performer. The other boys drew a couple of holes apiece or so. Gonzales wasn't even laid up, though Pedro had his arm shattered. Well, they kept me quiet, although I was crazy to talk. At the third day I demanded food, instead of swill. The doctor looked troubled and shook his head.