It was Dunham's conclusion that he had made a mistake in taking refuge in that car. They knew he was wounded, for they had seen him stagger when the shot from that high-powered rifle got him. Any desperate chance that he might have taken looks better than his choice to a man when he realizes its worthlessness. Dunham now thought he should have gone to the barn and had it out with them, win or lose.
A number of possibilities which seemed shut off to him now, presented in that lost chance. He might have found his horse, he might have been able to get to the doctor, who would have stood them off if he was half the man he looked. Anything would have been better than the course he had taken. They had him now; all they had to do was wait. Unless he could open the opposite door and slip out on the other side of the car.
The thought revived him with hope. He began to move the hay to come at the door. About one load had been taken out of the car, he calculated as he worked; just about one load. He cleared the closed door presently and tried to push it back. The pin was in the hasp outside; it wouldn't move.
It was a question on both sides of what to do next. Dunham had little choice of any course except to lie there and wait in the hope that MacKinnon and some
