arkness, he could not distinguish faces.

"What was it? What happened?" he inquired, in a hollow voice--a voice from
the tomb!

No one answered. They were all terror-stricken.

"I can't remember," the hollow voice went on. He fell back on the floor. He
was weak from the loss of blood. "Red" lifted him up, and helped him around
the table to a chair.

Lucia's eyes never left Morgan Pell's face. Was she dreaming? Was this some
madness that had come to her? This brute come back to life! It was
unbearable, unbelievable. She could not adjust her mind to the situation.
But with true feminine instinct, she found herself leaving her chair where
she had sat so long, going to the kitchen and getting a cup of water. Then
she knew, in some strange way, that she had fetched a bowl, and a towel.
These she placed on the table. Still she looked at her husband, as though
he were a ghost--as, literally, he was. They had thought him dead--gone
forever. Now he was back among them, speaking, moving. Incredible! One hand
went to her face. She dreaded the thought of Morgan's seeing her.

It was Uncle Henry who broke the awful tension.

"You was shot!" he cried, to Pell.

The other looked at the old man in the chair. "Shot?" he said.

"Yes, and a rotten shot it was, too!" Uncle Henry was not afraid to say.
"Gol darn it all!"

The moment was too tragic for anyone to smile.

"Who shot me?" Pell asked. He was very weak. He put the towel in the bowl
of water, and pressed it to his forehead.

"A friend of mine!" cried Uncle Henry.

Gilbert glared at the old man. No one could be forgiven for a remark like
that.

"I remember, now," Pell murmured. "The bandit."

"And a gol darn nice fellow, too," Uncle Henry went on. "A little careless,
but--"

Pell looked startled. The towel fell from his hand and he looked about him.
"He's not here still!" he cried, as one just coming out of a stupor to a
full realization of his surroundings.

"No, worse luck!" Uncle Henry said.

"He's gone?" Pell said.

"The rangers came," Hardy explained.

"Texas?" from Pell.

"Yes, gol darn 'em!" Uncle Henry let out.

Lucia, who had been watching Pell's face every second, now offered him the
bowl of water with her own hands, and drew closer to him. She picked up the
towel that had fallen to the table, and folded it, then dampened it. Pell
looked up and saw her for the first time.

"Oh, so there you are, my dear!" was his cynical greeting.

Lucia still