"That's for you, Lone Morgan," Al cried, as he fired again. "She talked
about you in her sleep last night. She called you Loney, and she wanted
you to come and get her. I was going to kill you first chance I got. I
coulda loved this little girl. I--could----"
He was down, bleeding and coughing and trying to talk. Swan had shot
him, and two of the deputies who had been there through half of Al's
bitter talk. Lorraine, unable to get up and run, too sturdy of soul to
faint, had rolled over and away from him, her lips held tightly
together, her eyes wide with horror. Al crawled after her, his eyes
pleading.
"Little Spitfire--I shot your Loney--but I'd have been good to you,
girl. I watched yuh all night--and I couldn't help loving yuh.
I--couldn't----" That was all. Within three feet of her, his face toward
her and his eyes agonizing to meet hers, he died.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ANOTHER STORY BEGINS
This chapter is very much like a preface: it is not absolutely
necessary, although many persons will read it and a few will be glad
that it was written.
The story itself is ended.
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