dog's wound and cursed himself for having not done it before.
He had been so paralyzed with the tragedy that his usual good sense and coolness had forsaken him. He now found to his great joy that the revolver bullet had barely skimmed the top of the dog's head. It had cut the skin to the skull bone, and had struck that knockout spot enough of a blow entirely to stun the dog, but it had not fractured the skull, nor injured the dog in any way beyond stunning him temporarily, although his eyesight was poor for several days.
Richard brought water in his cap and washed and dressed the wound carefully and then produced some surgeons' plaster from his kit and drew the wound together.
Silversheene was still dazed and bewildered by the accident, and it was several days before he was the old self-reliant Silversheene. Even then he seemed haunted
