my muscles growing tense. Then I bent down, and straightened the man out, upturning his face to the moon. He was not dead—there was a beat to his pulse; but the gash on his head was an ugly one; he would have a scar there while he lived. He lay like a dead man, his face ghastly, his thin lips drawn back from his teeth, and seemingly breathless. But for that faint, barely perceptible throb of the pulse, I would have thought him killed.
And now what? Kelly, and his followers, would not be gone long exploring the depths of the ravine—an hour at most would take them over every inch of it. We must have more of a start than that. There were troops yonder. Fox would never worry over the disappearance of Raymond, but Moran might; and he was in command. There was a squad of horsemen out there now, beyond the corner of the church, and riding southward—they might be in search of the missing lieutenant and his three troopers. I dare not leave the fellow where he was to recover consciousness, and give an alarm, or be discovered by others. There were two things possible to do—to roll the body into the ravine, or bear it with me. The first would be murder; the second a tax upon my physical strength which I might not withstand. Yet there was no other way, but to try the experiment.
