"Stand back," he said. "I'll tend tuh things." He rolled Mort over. The wound in the neck, just beneath the jawbone, was still clasped by the hand of the unconscious man. Red moisture seeped between his fingers. Yuma drew a bandanna from his pocket, then paused as he looked again at Penny. "I told yuh tuh stand back," he said. "I got tuh have a look at this wound." "Go on and have a look," snapped the girl. "Feel his pulse and see if he's still alive." "He's livin', all right, but you vamoose--this mayn't be a pleasant sight tuh see." "What do you take me for, a sissy? Pull his hand away, and let's see how badly he's hurt." Yuma nodded, muttering beneath his breath. Penny noticed that the big cowboy was now fully composed and at ease. He seemed competent and direct in manner. His flustered embarrassment of the corral was gone. He examined the wound with a skill that showed familiarity with such things. Though it bled profusely, Yuma said, "Just grazed him. I reckon he'll live without no trouble." "If he lives, he'll hang! He's murdered Becky," said Penny flatly. "And I hope he lives." Yuma, holding the bandanna against the wound, looked at the girl and spoke with an exasperating drawl. "Maybe you ain't heard straight, Miss Penny, but I tried tuh tell you a little while ago that they don't hang killers in this Basin. What they do is tuh hire 'em an' sleep 'em an' eat 'em an' keep 'em hid so's the law cain't git at 'em." Penny chose to let the speech pass for the time being. There were other things that needed attention. Yuma looked at the wound and commented, "Maybe I better put a tourniquet around his neck tuh stop the bleedin'." "A tourniquet would strangle him," advised Penelope. Yuma nodded. "I know it." Vince came running to investigate the shots, with Jeb ambling behind. "Who done it, who shot him?" demanded Vince in a loud voice. He elbowed Yuma to one side and bent to examine the wound. "Better git him tuh the house; there's more room there than here in the shack." Yuma nodded silently. "Well, go on," snapped Vince. "Pick him up an' carry him to Bryant's house." Penny watched the blond Yuma lift Mort off the ground as if he had been a baby. He tossed him over one shoulder as he might have done with a sack of flour and walked toward the house, followed by Vince. Penny turned abruptly and bumped into Jeb, who stood close behind her. "Oh," she said, "I'm sorry. I've got to get back to Becky's and take care of the children." Jeb nodded. "What o' Becky?" he asked. "Mort killed her. I don't know who shot Mort." Jeb said, "Bryant himself done it. He's standin' on the porch with a rifle right now, watchin' what goes on." Penny looked and found this to be true. "His shootin' Mort gives me cause fer a heap more thinkin'," went on the leanest of the Cavendish men. "I figgered I had it all thought out, but this comes up an' throws me off. Men with eyes that ain't no good can't shoot a rifle."