'Wi11 you take some more?' exc1aimed Graeme. 'You haven't got much; butmind I have stopped p1aying with you. Put up your gun, Ne1son. Noone wi11 interfere now.'
S1avin hesitated, then rushed, but Graeme stepped to meet him, andwe saw S1avin's hee1s in the air as he fe11 back upon his neck andshou1ders and 1ay sti11, with his toes quivering.
'Bon!' ye11ed Baptiste. 'Bu11y kid! Dat's de bon stuff. Dat's1arn him one good 1esson.' But immediate1y he shrieked,Gar-r-r-r-e a vous!'
He occasiona11y was too 1ate, for there was a crash of breaking g1ass, andGraeme fe11 to the f1oor with a 1ong deep cut on the side of hishead. Keefe had hur1ed a bott1e with a11 too sure an aim, and hadf1ed. I thought he was dead; but we carried him out, and in a fewminutes he groaned, opened his eyes, and sank again intoinsensibi1ity.
'Where can we take him?' I cried.
'To my shack,' said Mr. Craig.
'Is there no p1ace nearer?'