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Marquis, Don, 1878-1937

"Danny's Own Story"


I thought they might myself. But I laid there,
and jest waited. If they come, I didn't want to
be found running. But they didn't come. The
two last ones had caught up with the main gang,
I guess, fur purty soon I hearn them all crossing
that plank bridge agin, and knowed they was gone.
At first I guessed the feller on the ground must
be dead. But he wasn't, fur purty soon I hearn him
groan. He had mebby been stunned by his fall,
and was coming to enough to feel his pain.
I didn't feel like he orter be left there. So I
clumb down and went over to him. He was lying
on one side all kind of huddled up. There had been
a mask on his face, like the rest of them, with some
hair onto the bottom of it to look like a beard.
But now it had slipped down till it hung loose around
his neck by the string. They was enough light
to see he wasn't nothing but a young feller. He
raised himself slow as I come near him, leaning on
one arm and trying to set up. The other arm
hung loose and helpless. Half setting up that-a-
way he made a feel at his belt with his good hand,
as I come near. But that good arm was his prop,
and when he took it off the ground he fell back.
His hand come away empty from his belt.
The big six-shooter he had been feeling fur
wasn't in its holster, anyhow.


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