The hunter at once sprang to his assistance, and made a swift examination
of the wound.
He tore strips of cloth from the wounded man's shirt and succeeded, after
a little, in staunching the blood.
"How do you feel?"
"Weak as a cat, but I don't believe the blade touched a vital spot,"
answered Vane, who now sat on the bench at the end of the porch.
"Of course he didn't. Shall I help you to the doctor's office?"
"No. You are going to the village?"
"Yes."
"Then you may send Dr. Helling to me."
"I will do so."
"Stay one moment."
The hunter turned about and waited for what his young friend had to say.
"You saw that tramp, August?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you stop him? He gave me this wound, and I believe he is the
man we need for--for the murder of poor Vic."
"No?" in evident surprise. "I was so startled I didn't think far enough
to stop the fellow."
Then the young hunter proceeded on his way with his gun under his arm and
a peculiar smile on his countenance.
"There's a little mistake it seems," he muttered.
Just then a man stepped from a clump of bushes near and touched the
hunter's arm.
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