"By
George!"
"What's up?"
"As I live, Mr. Crow, this fellow was one of the gang that abducted
Rosalie Gray last winter. I can swear to it. Don't you remember the one
she tried to intercede for? Briggs! That's it! Briggs!"
The injured man slowly opened his eyes as the name was half shouted. A
sickly grin spread slowly over his pain-racked face.
"She tried to intercede fer me, did she?" he murmured weakly. "She said
she would. She was square."
"You were half decent to her," said Bonner. "How do you happen to be
with this gang? Another kidnaping scheme afloat?"
"No--not that I know of. Ain't you the guy that fixed us? Say, on the
dead, I was goin' to do the right thing by her that night. I was duckin'
the gang when you slugged me. Honest, mister, I was goin' to put her
friends next. Say, I don't know how bad I'm hurt, but if I ever git to
trial, do what you can fer me, boss. On the dead, I was her friend."
Bonner saw pity in Anderson's face and rudely dragged him away, although
Bill's plea was not addressed to the old marshal.
"Wait for me out here, Mr. Crow," said he when they reached the office.
"You are overcome. I'll talk to him." He returned at once to the injured
man's cot.
"Look here, Briggs, I'll do what I can for you, but I'm afraid it won't
help much. What do the doctors say?"
"If they ain't lyin', I'll be up an' about in a few weeks.
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