"I'll get him to Okar--to the doctor.
Then, after the doc patches him up--if he can--an' I still think he
needs killing I'll do it."
So he brought Dale's horse near. The animal had had a long rest, and
had regained his strength.
Sanderson bent to Dale and lifted his shoulders, so that he might get
an arm under him, to carry him to his horse. But at the first movement
Dale groaned and opened his eyes, looking directly into Sanderson's.
"Don't!" he said, "for God's sake, don't! You'll break me apart! It's
my back--it's broke. I've felt you workin' around me for hours. But
it won't do any good--I'm done. I can feel myself goin'."
Sanderson laid him down again and knelt beside him.
"You're Sanderson," said Dale, after a time. "I thought it was Nyland
chasin' me for a while. Then I heard you talkin' to your horse an' I
knew it was you. Why don't you kill me?"
"I reckon the Lord is doin' that," said Sanderson.
"Yes--He is. Well, the Lord ain't ever done anything for me."
He was silent for a moment.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346