surface of blood and hair and dirt. Buckley's eyelids
winked continuously and with great rapidity.

A mingled concern and deep relief swept through
Gordon Makimmon. He knew that, had the stone
not been thrown, he would have killed Buckley Simmons.
He wondered if Tol'able had done him that
act of loyalty. It had, probably, fatally wounded
its object. He turned with a swift, silent look of
inquiry to Tol'able. The other, unmoved, dexterously
shifted a mouthful of tobacco. "Whoever
did that," he observed, "could sure throw a rock."

A crowd gathered swiftly, cautious and murmuring.
Simmons was lifted on a horse blanket to the
flooring by the counter. There was an outcry for a
doctor, but none was present, and it was agreed that
the wounded man must be hurried into Greenstream.
"He won't get there alive," it was freely predicted;
"the top of his head is crumbled right off."

[[198]]

p197 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p198w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p199

v?