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Updated: June 4, 2025
Kilrain drew a long breath, regarded Lawlor again with that considerate, expectant eye, and then turned on his heel and strode from the room. Back to Bard came fragments of tremendous cursing of an epic breadth and a world-wide inclusiveness. "Got to do things like this once in a while to keep 'em under my thumb," Lawlor explained genially.
The rancher had torn away the coat and shirt of the wounded man, and now, with much labour, was twisting a tight bandage around his chest. At every turn Calamity groaned feebly. Kilrain dropped beside his partner, taking the head between his hands. "Calamity pal," he said, "how'd you let a tenderfoot, a damned tenderfoot, do this?" The other sighed: "I dunno. I had him covered.
I know a short cut over the hills; we can reach there by morning. Kilrain, you'll go there with me. "It may be that Bard will go near the old place, but not right to it. Chances may be good that he'll put up at some place near the old ranchhouse, but not right on the spot. Jerry Wood, he's got a house about tour or five miles to the north of Drew's old ranch.
The treasurer, because of a proper anxiety over this question of expenditure, was chairman; in private life the treasurer was Lucy Lucy Berry. "Write to this address," said Miss Kilrain to the committee, giving them a slip of paper. "I met one of the firm when he was in the city last week to see a friend of mine, Professor Bryan, on business."
But the big man thrust him aside and knelt by the stricken cowpuncher. He commanded: "Gather the boys; form a line of buckets from the pump; fight that fire. It hasn't a hold on the house yet." The habit of obedience persisted in Kilrain. Under the glow of the fire, excited by the red light, the other man stood irresolute, eager for action, but not knowing what to do.
Even before the ten minutes had elapsed he was back, and behind followed a crew of heavy thumping boots up the stairs of Glendin's house and into the room where he sat with Dr. Young and Shorty Kilrain. They rose, but not from respect, when Nash entered with Conklin and his four ill-famed followers behind.
"You'll do your part by goin' to Drew's place with Doc Young. He'll be here with Shorty Kilrain in a minute." "And let you go after Bard?" "Right." "Far's I know, you may jest shoot him down and then come back and say you done it because he resisted arrest." "Well?" "You admit that's what you want, Steve?" "Absolute." "Well, partner, it can't be done. That ain't apprehendin' a man.
His hand on the shoulder of Shorty, he cried: "Is he badly burned?" "Shot," said Kilrain bitterly, "by the tenderfoot; done for." It was strange to hear the big voice go shrill with pain. "Shot? By Anthony? Give him to me." Kilrain lowered his burden to the ground. "You've got him murdered. Ain't you through with him? Calamity, he was my pal!"
The food itself which Shorty Kilrain and Calamity Ben now brought on was distinctly utilitarian rather than appetizing. The pièce de resistance was a monstrous platter heaped high with beefsteak, not the inviting meat of a restaurant in a civilized city, but thin, brown slabs, fried dry throughout. The real nourishment was in the gravy in which the steak swam.
Miss MacLauren heartily indorsed the proposed paper, and like Miss Kilrain, felt that it would be a proper field for unused talent. But her preference for a staff position was not consulted. Rosalie, however, became part of that body. Rosalie was a favourite with Miss Kilrain.
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