“Betwixt his ribs, Mac.  And right on through.  And it come out his back!”

But there was not an answering tremor in Mac Strann.  He let his hands fall away from the face of the vulture and he caught up the saddle.  Langley straightened himself.  He peered anxiously at Strann, as if he feared to miss something.

“I dunno whether he’s livin’ right now, or not,” suggested Haw-Haw.

But Mac Strann was already striding through the door.

* * * * *

Sweat was pouring from the lather-flecked bodies of their horses when they drew rein, at last, at the goal of their long, fierce ride; and Haw-Haw slunk behind the broad form of Mac Strann when the latter strode into the hotel.  Then the two started for the room in which, they were told, lay Jerry Strann.

“There it is,” whispered Haw-Haw, as they reached the head of the stairs.  “The door’s open.  If he was dead the door would be closed, most like.”

They stood in the hall and looked in upon a strange picture, for flat in the bed lay Jerry Strann, his face very white and oddly thin, and over him leaned the man who had shot him down.

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.