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Duffield, J. W.

"Bert Wilson in the Rockies"


They gave an exclamation of surprise as they saw the bandaged arm, and
were off their horses in an instant.
"What's the matter, cap?" inquired the smaller man. "Did they get you
bad?"
"Bad enough," snarled the other with a string of blasphemies. "I guess
they've broken a bone in my wrist. But the feller that did it will never
do no more shooting." And in fervid words, interrupted by curses as his
sore arm gave a worse twinge than usual, he related the events leading
up to the affray.
The others listened with perfunctory grunts of sympathy, although they
seemed less concerned about him personally than over the changes the
wounding might make in their plans.
"It's lucky it's the right arm, anyway," consoled one of them. "Yer'll
still be able to shoot as well as ever until yer get all right again."
"Yes," assented the captain grudgingly, "it's the first time I've ever
felt glad that I'm left-handed. And I'm shore glad that I fixed that deal
up with the half-breed before the scrap came off. Handed him over his
share of the last swag, and got it all settled to pull off another trick
a week from to-morrow.


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