"Get out of my way!" he called, in a loud, clear voice, and begun pushing his body in, using his hands, elbows and knees irrespective of who they touched. "Stand back! You'll smother him! Back! Back!" he commanded, and the stern voice carried weight. They made room for him, and directly he was kneeling by the prostrate form. A brief examination showed him it was bad enough. A ball through the man's right side, with blood spouting from the wound. "Where does he live?" he asked, quickly, turning his head and looking up half savagely. "How far?" "Half mile, I reck'n, anyhow," answered a bystander, with his hands in his pockets. "Lift his feet; I'll take his head and shoulders," said Glenning, to a determined looking man in front of him. "Into the drug store yonder. It's quick work now, or he's gone!" They came up with Goodloe's weight between them. The crowd was apathetic with curiosity. "Back!--damn you!" gritted John Glenning, his patience leaving him at the asinine stupidity of the class with which he was surrounded. The lower element of Macon, which formed the inner line of that congested caldron of people, had begun to press forward again to get a glimpse of the senseless form which many of them had seen daily all their lives. They gave, half in fear; a lane was opened, and Dick Goodloe was carried across the street into the drug store. "Lock your door!" ordered Glenning, then he was coolly removing clothing and calling for this and that, and battling with all the skill that was in him for the life of this stranger whom a half-drunken, altogether mean ruffian had tried to kill. The front of the drug store was darkened by the thronging crowd which pressed against the windows and door--trying to see! The better class of citizens began to assemble, but these were content to wait; they wanted to be on hand when the doctor's verdict was given out. Squads of men had already formed up and down the street to talk it over. Business was suspended for the time, and an atmosphere of gloom began to settle over Main street. Very soon it became known that Goodloe had only a thread of a chance for his life. The bullet had been found and taken out, but the wound was in a vital part. The chances were against the marshal. These things Glenning told quietly and willingly to such as inquired after his patient as he left the drug store, giving instructions that the man be carried to his home as soon as possible.