"Oh, he must have shot Roy. He left here in a rage."
"I reckon you can coax it out of Roy. Fact is, all I could learn was thet Roy come in the saloon alone. Beasley was there, an' Riggs--"
"Riggs!" interrupted Helen.
"Shore, Riggs. He come back again. But he'd better keep out of my way.... An' Jeff Mulvey with his outfit. Turner told me he heard an argument an' then a shot. The gang cleared out, leavin' Roy on the floor. I come in a little later. Roy was still layin' there. Nobody was doin' anythin' for him. An' nobody had. I hold that against Turner. Wal, I got help an' packed Roy over to Widow Cass's. Roy seemed all right. But he was too bright an' talky to suit me. The bullet hit his lung, thet's shore. An' he lost a sight of blood before we stopped it. Thet skunk Turner might have lent a hand. An' if Roy croaks I reckon I'll--"
"Tom, why must you always be reckoning to kill somebody?" demanded Helen, angrily.
"'Cause somebody's got to be killed 'round here. Thet's why!" he snapped back.
"Even so--should you risk leaving Bo and me without a friend?" asked Helen, reproachfully.
At that Carmichael wavered and lost something of his sullen deadliness.
"Aw, Miss Nell, I'm only mad. If you'll just be patient with me--an' mebbe coax me.... But I can't see no other way out."
"Let's hope and pray," said Helen, earnestly. "You spoke of my coaxing Roy to tell who shot him. When can I see him?"
"To-morrow, I reckon. I'll come for you. Fetch Bo along with you. We've got to play safe from now on. An' what do you say to me an' Hal sleepin' here at the ranch-house?"
"Indeed I'd feel safer," she replied. "There are rooms. Please come."
"Allright. An' now I'll be goin' to fetch Hal. Shore wish I hadn't made you pale an' scared like this."
About ten o'clock next morning Carmichael drove Helen and Bo into Pine, and tied up the team before Widow Cass's cottage.
The peach and apple-trees were mingling blossoms of pink and white; a drowsy hum of bees filled the fragrant air; rich, dark-green alfalfa covered the small orchard flat; a wood fire sent up a lazy column of blue smoke; and birds were singing sweetly.
Helen could scarcely believe that amid all this tranquillity a man lay perhaps fatally injured. Assuredly Carmichael had been somber and reticent enough to rouse the gravest fears.