They heard Dan Barry's soft, gentle voice query: "How you feelin' now, partner?" He leaned close beside the other, his fingers upon the wrist of Jerry. "A pile better," muttered Jerry Strann. "Seems like I got more'n a fightin' chance to pull through now." "Jest you keep lyin' here quiet," advised Dan Barry, "and don't stir around none. Don't start no worryin'. You're goin' to live's long as you don't lose no more blood. Keep your thoughts quiet. They ain't no cause for you to do nothin' but jest keep your eyes closed, and breathe, and think of yaller sunshine, and green grass in the spring, and the wind lazyin' the clouds along across the sky. That's all you got to think about. Jest keep quiet, partner." "It's easy to do it now you're with me. Seems like they's a pile of strength runnin' into me from the tips of your fingers, my frien'. And--I was _some_ fool to start that fight with you, Barry." "Jest forget all that," murmured the other. "And keep your voice down. I've forgot it; you forget it. It ain't never happened." "What's it mean?" frowned Mac Strann, whispering to Haw-Haw. The eyes of the latter glittered like beads. "That's him that shot Jerry," said Haw-Haw. "Him!" "Hell!" snarled Mac Strann, and went through the door. At the first sound of his heavy footfall, the head of Barry raised and turned in a light, swift movement. The next instant he was on his feet. A moment before his face had been as gentle as that of a mother leaning over a sick child; but one glimpse of the threat in the contorted brows of Mac Strann set a gleam in his own eyes, an answer as distinct as the click of metal against metal. Not a word had been said, but Jerry, who had lain with his eyes closed, seemed to sense a change in the atmosphere of peace which had enwrapped him the moment before. His eyes flashed open; and he saw his burly brother. But Mac Strann had no eye for any saving Dan Barry. "Are you the creepin', sneakin' snake that done--this?" "You got me figured right," answered Dan coldly. "Then, by God------" began the roaring voice of Mac, but Jerry Strann stirred wildly on the bed. "Mac!" he called, "Mac!" His voice went suddenly horribly thick, a bubbling, liquid sound. "For God's sake, Mac!" He had reared himself up on one elbow, his arm stretched out to his brother. And a foam of crimson stood on his lips. "Mac, don't pull no gun! It was me that was in wrong!" And then he fell back in the bed, and into the arms of Mac, who was beside him, moaning: "Buck up, Jerry. Talk to me, boy!" "Mac, you've finished the job," came the husky whisper. Mac Strann raised his head, and his terrible eyes fixed upon Dan Barry. And there was no pity in the face of the other. The first threat had wiped every vestige of human tenderness out of his eyes, and now, with something like a sneer on his lips, and with a glimmer of yellow light in his eyes, he was backing towards the door, and noiselessly as a shadow he slipped out and was gone.