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One by one the Pimans dropped until but a single Indian rushed frantically upon

the white man, and then the last of the assailants lunged forward across the

breastwork with a bullet from Billy's carbine through his forehead.

Eddie Shorter had raised himself painfully upon an elbow that he might witness

the battle, and when it was over he sank back, the blood welling from between his

set teeth.

Billy turned to look at him when the last of the Pimans was disposed of, and

seeing his condition kneeled beside him and took his head in the hollow of an

arm.

"You orter lie still," he cautioned the Kansan. "Tain't good for you to move around

much."

It was worth it," whispered Eddie. "Say, but that was some scrap. You got your

nerve standin' up there against the bunch of 'em; but if you hadn't they'd have

rushed us and some of 'em would a-got in."

"Funny the boys don't come," said Billy.

"Yes," replied Eddie, with a sigh; "it's milkin' time now, an' I figgered on goin' to

Shawnee this evenin'. Them's nice cookies, maw. I--"

Billy Byrne was bending low to catch his feeble words, and when the voice trailed

out into nothingness he lowered the tousled red head to the hard earth and

turned away.

Could it be that the thing which glistened on the eyelid of the toughest guy on the

West Side was a tear?

The afternoon waned and night came, but it brought to Billy Byrne neither

renewed attack nor succor. The bullet which had dropped him momentarily had

but creased his forehead. Aside from the fact that he was blood covered from the

wound it had inconvenienced him in no way, and now that darkness had fallen

he commenced to plan upon leaving the shelter.

First he transferred Eddie's ammunition to his own person, and such valuables

and trinkets as he thought "maw" might be glad to have, then he removed the

breechblock from Eddie's carbine and stuck it in his pocket that the weapon

might be valueless to the Indians when they found it.

"Sorry I can't bury you old man," was Billy's parting comment, as he climbed over

the breastwork and melted into the night.

286

The Mucker