Don't you hear him snort?"

The man's breathing was indeed audible, and growing louder with each
labored inspiration.

"Turn him over on his face," directed Boyle. "There's blood in his
throat."

"Will you go for Smith?" she asked, kneeling beside the wounded man.

"He's coming; I can hear the sauerkraut jolt in him while he's half a
mile away. If anybody comes looking for me on account of this--coroner
or--oh, anybody--I'll be down the river about a quarter below the
stage-ford. I'll wait there a day longer to hear from you, and this is
my last word."

With that Boyle left her. Smith came very shortly, having heard the
shots; and the people from up the river came, and the young man from the
bridal nest across on the other side. They made a wondering, awed ring
around the wounded man, who was pronounced by Smith to be in deep
waters. There was a bullet through his neck.

Smith believed there was life enough left in the sheep-herder to last
until he could fetch a doctor from Meander.

"But that's thirty miles," said Agnes, "and Dr. Slavens is not more than
twenty. You know where he's located--down by Comanche?"

Smith knew, but he had forgotten for the minute, so accustomed to
turning as he was to the center of civilization in that section for all
the gentle ministrants of woe, such as doctors, preachers, and
undertakers.

"I'll have him here before morning," said Smith, posting off to get his
horse.

The poor sheep-herder was too sorely hurt to last the night out. Before
Smith had been two hours on his way the shepherd was in the land of
shades, having it out face to face with Epictetus--if he carried the
memory of his contention across with him, to be sure.

The neighbors arranged him respectably upon a board, and covered him
over with a blanket, keeping watch beside him in the open, with the
clear stars shining undisturbed by this thing which made such a turmoil
in their breasts. There he lay, waiting the doctor and the coroner, and
all who might come, his earthly troubles locked up forever in his cold
heart, his earthly argument forever at an end.

CHAPTER XVI

A PROMISE

Dr. Slavens rode in before dawn, more concerned about Agnes than about
the person in whose behalf he had been summoned. On the way he asked
Smith repeatedly how the tragedy affected her; whether she was
frightened or greatly disturbed.

"She's as steady as a compass," said Smith; and so he found her.

Somewhat too stead