his helpless
fashion, was struggling with.

Some moments passed thus, and at last the words which Jim was waiting
for came. But they shocked him strangely.

"Did you kill him?" Elia asked, with a struggle controlling his
halting tongue.

"No, boy, he's only knocked out--I think."

"You're a fule," whispered the lad viciously.

Jim had no answer to this, and the boy, recovering slowly, spoke
again.

"Best kill him now," he said. "He's a devil. He's smashed me all up.
He's smashed my sick body, and things feel queer inside me. Kill him,
Jim! Kill him!"

Watching the working face, the man sickened at the inhuman desire of
the boy. Where did he ever get such a frightful nature from? It was
monstrous.

"Here," he said almost sternly, "can you walk?"

"I guess." The tone had that peculiar sullenness which generally
portended an outbreak of the most vicious side of the boy's temper.

"Then get over there by my horse and wait till I come. I'll put you on
him, and you can ride back home."

"What you going to do?"

The demand was an eager whisper. It suggested the hope that Jim was
perhaps after all going to do as he asked--and kill Will Henderson.

"I'm going to see--how bad Will is. Be off now."

"Can't I stay--an' watch you?"

"No. Get on after that horse."

Elia turned away, and Jim watched his painful gait. Once he thought he
saw him stagger, but, as he continued to hobble on, he turned again to
the injured man. One glance at his face showed him the extent of his
handiwork. He was ripped open right along the jaw, and the bone itself
was badly broken.

He instantly whipped out his sheath-knife and a handkerchief. The
latter he cut up into a bandage. Then, removing the silk scarf at his
neck, he folded it into a soft pad, and bound it over the wound.
Curiously he felt he must lend what aid he could first, and then send
out adequate help from the village.

He stood up, took a final glance at the wounded face, and turned
coldly away toward his horse.

But now events took an unexpected and disconcerting turn. When he
reached his horse Elia was nowhere to be seen. He called, but received
no answer. He called again, but still no answer. And suddenly he
became alarmed. He remembered the boy's condition. He must have
collapsed somewhere.

He promptly began to search. Taking his horse as a central point he
moved round it in ever widening circles, calling at intervals, and
with his eyes glued to the long g