Dunn attempted to rise to his feet.  “Put your hand in my pocket,” he said in a hurried whisper.  “No, there!—­bring out a book.  There, I haven’t looked at it yet.  Is that it?” he added, handing her the book Brace had given him a few hours before.

“Yes,” said Teresa, in surprise.  “Where did you find it?”

“Never mind!  Now let me see it, quick.  Open it, for my sight is failing.  There—­thank you—­that’s all!”

“Take more whisky,” said Teresa, with a strange anxiety creeping over her.  “You are faint again.”

“Wait!  Listen, Teresa—­lower—­put your ear lower.  Listen!  I came near killing that chap Low to-day.  Wouldn’t it have been ridiculous?”

He tried to smile, but his head fell back.  He had fainted.

CHAPTER IX

For the first time in her life Teresa lost her presence of mind in an emergency.  She could only sit staring at the helpless man, scarcely conscious of his condition, her mind filled with a sudden prophetic intuition of the significance of his last words.  In the light of that new revelation she looked into his pale, haggard face for some resemblance to Low, but in vain.  Yet her swift feminine instinct met the objection.  “It’s the mother’s blood that would show,” she murmured, “not this man’s.”

Recovering herself, she began to chafe his hands and temples, and moistened his lips with the spirit.  When his respiration returned with a faint color to his cheeks, she pressed his hands eagerly and leaned over him.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Of what?” he whispered faintly.

“That Low is really your son?”

“Who said so?” he asked, opening his round eyes upon her.

“You did yourself, a moment ago,” she said quickly.  “Don’t you remember?”

“Did I?”

“You did.  Is it not so?”

He smiled faintly.  “I reckon.”

She held her breath in expectation.  But only the ludicrousness of the discovery seemed paramount to his weakened faculties.  “Isn’t it just about the ridiculousest thing all round?” he said, with a feeble chuckle.  “First you nearly kill me before you know I am Low’s father; then I’m just spoilin’ to kill him before I know he’s my son; then that god-forsaken fool Jack Brace mistakes you for Nellie and Nellie for you.  Ain’t it just the biggest thing for the boys to get hold of?  But we must keep it dark until after I marry Nellie, don’t you see?  Then we’ll have a good time all round, and I’ll stand the drinks.  Think of it, Teresha!  You don’ no me, I do’ no you, nobody knowsh anybody elsh.  I try kill Lo’.  Lo’ wants kill Nellie.  No thath no ri—­’” but the potent liquor, overtaking his exhausted senses, thickened, impeded, and at last stopped his speech.  His head slipped to her shoulder, and he became once more unconscious.