Poke was beginning to recover his spirits. “Huh! Knew you wouldn’t,” said he, and chuckled fatly. “This country’s hunted to death. Why, so many men with guns were out to-day that one of ’em had to let drive at another, just for something to shoot at.” “What!” gasped Sam. “What’s that? What do you mean?” “Just what I say.” Sam pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped drops of cold sweat from his forehead. “But--but----” he faltered. “It isn’t a case of ‘but’ or ‘if.’ Step there knows all about it. He saw them bringing him in.” Sam’s brain was reeling. “Bring-bringing him in?” he quavered. “Then--then he was badly hurt, after all! And who--who was he?” Poke was staring in bewildered fashion at Sam. “What’s upsetting you? Why, you’re white as a sheet!” “Never mind me! Who--who was it?” “Peter Groche.” “Pe-Peter Groche? And--and he--he’s wounded--maybe dying?” Poke laughed explosively. “Not he! Old rascal was never born to be shot.” “But you said they--they were bringing him in?” “Yes--to the lock-up!” Sam dropped into the nearest chair. “I don’t--don’t under-understand,” he said weakly. “It’s clear enough. Peter shot somebody else--or tried to.” Step joined in the conversation. “Well, he did wing him,” was his contribution. “Where?” “Oh, grazed his head, and plunked him in one hand,” said Step. Sam dug his finger-nails into his palms. “I don’t mean that--at least, that wasn’t what I tried to ask about. Where did the shooting take place?” “Out beyond Marlow hill somewhere. But you steered that way, didn’t you?” “In that general direction.” By a mighty effort Sam controlled his voice. “Then you may have been within a half mile of Peter Groche,” Step went on. “Maybe you heard his gun. Well, if you didn’t, he fired it, anyway. And he ’most got his man for keeps. But the Major wasn’t hurt badly, and he had had a glimpse of Peter a little earlier, and knew about where he was. So he beat it through the woods after him, and overtook him near the back road. And just then, by luck, along came Sheriff Whaley. So the sheriff and the Major asked Mr. Peter a question or two; and, getting no satisfaction, loaded him in the Whaley wagon and brought him in. And there’s going to be a trial Monday morning. And I guess it’s going to go hard with Groche. You see, he’s had a quarrel with the Major, and there are witnesses to testify that he made threats to get even. Then, too, there was an empty shell in one barrel of his gun, and he wouldn’t give any explanation of how it happened to be there. So I reckon he’ll get all that’s coming to him. The Major’s a bad man to have on your trail--hardest man in town, by thunder!” “Maj-Major----?” Poor Sam’s tone was that of one whose hopes are dwindling fast. “Yes siree! Hardest man in Plainville is Major Bates!” declared Step. “Anybody that harms him’ll be put through the works, I tell you!” Sam got upon his feet. With trembling limbs he moved to the door. “Why, what’s the matter?” Step called after him.