He broke off short and, shoving the barrel of his carbine over the edge
of the bank, he commenced to clamber up. "Wait a second! . . . Good
God, Red! don't do that!" snarled Yorke warningly. "He's as cunning as
a blasted _lobo_. May be it's only a tr--"

The entreaty died in his throat. Crack! A spurt of flame shot from the
opened window, and Redmond, with a gasping exclamation of rage and pain,
toppled backwards onto the shingle, his carbine clattering down beside
him. Fearful of relaxing his vigilance even at this crisis, the maddened
Yorke flung up his weapon and sent shot after shot crashing through the
open casement. All could hear the smashing, rending sounds of havoc his
bullets were creating within.

"Doctor!" he shouted. "Oh, Doctor! Come on round quick!" In a hoarse
aside he spat out feverishly, "Red! Red! my old son! . . . hit bad?
Where'd you get it?"

"Shoulder! Oh-h!" gasped poor Redmond, moaning and rolling on the
shingle in his agony, "Oh, Christ, it hurts!"

There came a crashing in the undergrowth on their right, and presently a
crouching form came creeping rapidly towards them under cover of the
sheltering bank. In a terse aside Yorke acquainted the doctor with the
details of his comrade's mischance, keeping a wary eye meanwhile on the
window. The ex-naval surgeon wasted no time in unnecessary question or
comment, but with the grim composure of an old campaigner swiftly
proceeded to render first aid to the wounded man.

"Right shoulder--low down!" he presently vouch-safed to the anxious
Yorke. "Trust it's missed the lung! . . . can't tell yet! . . . I must
get him away the best way I can. No! . . . don't move, Yorke! You keep
on your mark! I can pack him I think. I'll get him to the buckboard
somehow. This is going to be a long siege, I'm thinking. You'll be
getting reinforcements later. Slavin told me to send for them."

Bang! crash! The crisp sounds of splintering woodwork on the east side
of the shack denoted the fact of their quarry apparently attempting a
second escape from the front entrance. Unaided, the doctor cleverly
executed the professional fire-fighter's trick of raising, balancing on
the back, and carrying an unconscious human body. With an overwhelming
feeling of relief, not unmixed with admiration, at the other's gameness,
Yorke watched him stagger away in the gloom, bearing poor George upon his
bowed shoulders.

His momentary lack of vigilance prove