The leaden knob of the stick fell on Sam's
temple, and he dropped as if shot. Alarmed at the effect of his blow,
Sidney tore open the unconscious man's shirt, and tried to get him to
swallow some whiskey from the bottle he found in his pocket. Appalled
to find all his efforts unavailing, he sprang on the horse and rode to
the stables for help.
The foreman coming out, cried: "Good heavens, Mr. Buller, that's the
old man's horse. Where did you get him? Well, Jerry, old fellow," he
continued, patting the horse, who whinnied affectionately, "they've
been using you badly, and you've come home to be taken care of. Where
did you find him, Mr. Buller?"
"Out on the prairie, and I'm afraid I've killed the man who was riding
him. God knows, I didn't intend to, but he fired at me, and I hit
harder than I thought."
Sidney and the foreman ran out together to where Jerry's late rider lay
on the grass.
"He's done for," said the foreman, bending over the prostrate figure,
but taking the precaution to have a revolver in his hand. "He's got his
dose, thank God. This is the man who murdered your uncle. Think of him
being knocked over with a city cane, and think of the old man's revenge
money coming back to the family again!"
THE UNDERSTUDY.
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