When he saw
the front of me he halted, threw wide his arms.
"There come the girls!" suddenly exclaimed Sampson. "Morton, help me
drag Wright inside. They mustn't see him."
I was facing down the porch toward the court and corrals. Miss Sampson
and Sally had come in sight, were swiftly approaching, evidently
alarmed. Steele, no doubt, had remained out at the camp. I was watching
them, wondering what they would do and say presently, and then Sampson
and Johnson came to carry me indoors. They laid me on the couch in the
parlor where the girls used to be so often.
"Russ, you're pretty hard hit," said Sampson, bending over me, with his
hands at my breast. The room was bright with sunshine, yet the light
seemed to be fading.
"Reckon I am," I replied.
"I'm sorry. If only you could have told me sooner! Wright, damn him!
Always I've split over him!"
"But the last time, Sampson."
"Yes, and I came near driving you to kill me, too. Russ, you talked me
out of it. For Diane's sake! She'll be in here in a minute. This'll be
harder than facing a gun."
"Hard now. But it'll--turn out--O.K."
"Russ, will you do me a favor?" he asked, and he seemed shamefaced.
"Sure."
"Let Diane and Sally think Wright shot you.
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