Part 19 (2/2)
”h.e.l.lo!” he said, and Stannard, sitting by Douglas, turned.
”He's very sick,” Simpson resumed. ”What are we going to do about it?”
”We must try to keep him warm and when he can swallow give him a little weak liquor and perhaps some hot soup. I expect that's all, but I have sent for a doctor.”
”I see you have given him good blankets,” said Simpson, who looked about. ”Leyland's not back; you allowed he had gone out for a few minutes. Then where's the big man?”
”I stated Leyland went out a few minutes before Deering inquired for him,” Stannard said dryly. ”Some time after Leyland went, Deering started for the bush.”
”Then, I've got stung! You knew I'd lost my rifle and you helped my prisoners get off!”
Stannard smiled. ”To talk about your prisoners is ridiculous; I imagine we are rather your hosts. I am not a policeman, and when my friends resolved to leave the camp I had no grounds to meddle. However, if it will give you some satisfaction, I'll lend you a rifle.”
”I'm going to get mine,” said Simpson and started across the clearing.
He came back before long, carrying a wet rifle. His clothes were muddy and his mouth was tight.
”I found her in two or three minutes, but when I was in the ditch last night I felt all about.”
”To find an object in the dark is awkward,” Stannard remarked.
Simpson gave him an angry glance. ”The magazine's broke and the ejector's jambed. I don't see how she got broke. I didn't hit the stump with my gun; I hit it with my head.”
”The thing is rather obvious. The cut ought to satisfy your officer,”
said Stannard soothingly.
”If you hadn't let your partners go, I wouldn't have had to satisfy my officer. Now I sure don't see where I am.”
”The situation is embarra.s.sing,” Stannard agreed. ”My friends have been gone some time and are pretty good mountaineers; it's possible they could go where you could not. Then, if you went after Deering and Leyland, I might go off another way. I don't want to persuade you, but perhaps you ought to stop and take care of Douglas.”
Simpson frowned and put down his damaged rifle.
”Looks as if you had got me beat and I've no use for talking. Now the light's good, I'll take a proper look at your party's tracks.”
Stannard let him go and soon afterwards Bob came in. Sitting down on the boards, he struck a pungent sulphur match and lighted his pipe.
Stannard's glance got hard. He knew the Western hired man's independence, but he thought Bob truculent.
”The warden's very ill and your tobacco's rank,” he said.
”He's sick all right. I doubt if he'll get better,” Bob agreed in a meaning voice, although he did not put away his pipe.
For a few moments Stannard pondered. To baffle the young trooper had rather amused him, but to dispute with Bob was another thing.
”If Douglas does not get better, it will be awkward,” Stannard said.
”It will sure be awkward for Mr. Leyland.”
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