nodded his appreciation of her forethought ere he disappeared again
with the hot water and a basin.

In about an hour Doctor Taylor emerged, grip in hand.

"I've done all I can for him, Miss Corblay" he told her. "I'm going up
town to close the drug store and get a few things I may need, but I'll
be back within an hour and spend the balance of the night with him."

"Will he live?"

Donna's voice was calm, her tones hinting of nothing more than a
friendly interest and sympathy; yet Harley P., watching her over the
doctor's shoulder, guessed the stress of emotion under which she
strove, for he, too, had seen her kiss Bob McGraw as he lay unconscious
in her arms.

"I fear he will not. The bullet ranged upward, perforating the top of
his right lung, and went on clean through. I've seen men recover from
wounds in more vital parts, but a .45-caliber bullet did the trick to
our young friend, and a .45 tears quite a hole. He's big and strong and
has a fighting chance, but I'm afraid--very much afraid--of internal
hemorrhage, and traumatic pneumonia is bound to set in."

"He will not die!" said Donna.

The doctor looked at her curiously. "I hope not" he said. "But he'll
need a trained nurse and the best of care to pull through. It's long
odds."