On the morning of the fourth day, Miss Georgie woke with the
vague sense that something had gone wrong. True railroader as
she had come to be, she thought first that there had been a
wreck, and that she was wanted at the telegraph instrument. She
was up and partly dressed before the steps and the voices which
had broken her sleep had reached her door.
Pete Hamilton's voice, trembling with excitement, called to her.
"What is it? What has happened?" she cried from within, beset by
a hundred wild conjectures.
"Saunders--somebody shot Saunders. Wire for a doctor, quick as
yuh can. He ain't dead yet--but he's goin' t' die, sure. Hurry
up and wire--" Somebody at the store called to him, and he broke
off to run lumberingly in answer to the summons. Miss Georgie
made haste to follow him.
Saunders was lying upon a blanket on the store platform, and Miss
Georgie shuddered as she looked at him.
He was pasty white, and his eyes looked glassy under his
half-closed lids.
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