broke from his lips and his rifle fell clattering to among the rocks. He staggered as though he would fall and became deadly pale. He tried to speak to his companion, but his lips only uttered strange sounds and he fell to his knees and began groping blindly for his carbine. At the same moment Hank's carbine cracked. This sinister sound brought back all of Halsey's alertness and initiative. He sprang up, clutching madly at his comrade's arm and pushing up his carbine.
"For God's sake, don't," he cried. "You might kill him. What have you done? Did you kill him?"
Hank gazed at him in mute astonishment. What was the matter with his comrade? Had he been wounded, or had he gone mad? The other continued to clutch for his carbine. Finally Hank found his tongue.
"Gol darn it, Halsey. What is the matter with you? That's the first time I ever see you object to a man's getting a Johnnie. Did a bullet hit your head? I hain't heered any shot."
