He fell in turn into a solemn brooding, and many a picture out of the
past came up beside him and stood near till he could almost feel its
presence. He was roused by the creaking of the floor beneath the
ponderous step of Jim Boone, who flung the door open and shouted:
"Oh, Morgan."
In the silence he turned and stared back at Pierre.
"What's up with Gandil?"
"God knows, not I."
Pierre rose and ran from the room and around the side of the building.
There by the woodpile lay the prostrate body. It was a mere limp
weight when he turned and raised it in his arms. So he walked back
into the house carrying all that was left of Black Morgan Gandil, and
placed his burden on a bunk at the side of the room.
There had been no outcry from either Jim Boone or his daughter, but
they came quickly to him, and Jacqueline pressed her ear over the
heart of the hurt man.
She said: "He's still alive, but nearly gone. Where's the wound?"
They found it when they drew off his coat--a small cut high on the
right breast, and another lower and more to the left.
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