The Holly chieftain., 1923-09-13
By ITALIAN DUNN

Plimsoll's veins had sprinkled and
Grit had stained the floor. He found.
too. button of horn with fragment
Of black and white check. torn from
Molly's riding coat in the struggle.
Sandy's anger crystalized into one am
billion beyond the finding Of Molly,
and that was to kill Plimsoll, II pos
sible with his hands. He pictured the
struggle between the gambler and the
girl. desperate on one side. brutal on
the other, and, whether the stake had
been won or lost, he resolved that
Plimsoll should die for that attack.
Now his hope hung on Grit. He
took the collies head on his lap and
examined the blow made by the butt
of Plimsoll's gun. It had laid bare
the bone but he did not think 1t either
splintered or fractured. Sandy knew
that dog or wolf or coyote will lie
In a torpor after being badly wound
ed and often recover slowly, waking
from the recuperating sleep revital-
ICED. But. II he could bring Grit back,
he must make fresh demands on him.
He washed the wound on the head
and poured iodine into It. He did
the same with the hole in the leg,
cleansing 1t from the dried blood and
hair. 1t had stopped bleeding. He
disinfected 1t, stitched 1t, closed 1t,
bound 1t with adhesive tape, and
strengthened 1t with a bandage ad-
justed as expertly as any surgeon
could have done. He pried open the
jaws with but little resistance and let
the tongue slip back before he poured
In a measure of Scotch and water
between the canine and incisor teeth.
For moment. there was no response,
then Grit copghed, choked, swal-
lowed. Sandy repeated the dose with
less water. It went down naturally.
Almost Immediately he felt the heart
stroke strengthen. Grit sneezed,
opened his eyes and feebly thumped
his tail as he licked Sandy's hand.
"Grit. OIL pardner," said Sandy seri-
ously, the dogs head between his
hands. ''yore sure mussed up heap
an hate to do 1t, but / got to call
ON you. son. Mebbe 1t won't be such
a long trick, but can't git by with
out yore nose. Grit. It's worth more'n
all I've got. An know yo're game"
Grit wagged his tail more vigorous
iy and tried to get on his feet, but
Sandy prevented him until the third
desc was administered. Then he car
ried the dog outside to save him every
foot of unnecessary progress, and set
him down. The collie stood up, wab-
bly, on one foot but able to stand,
looking eagerly at Sandy, commencing
to snuff the air. Sandy let him smell
the coin. the strand Of hair, the piece
of cloth and, with his keenest sense
stimulated with the perfume that
stood to Grit for love, the dog wrin-
kled his nose and cast around. But
he led direct to Blaze and stood by
the horse uncertain while Blaze
nosed down at him.
Carried out Of the cabin, son." said
Sandy. "We'll guess at plimsoll.
He's got clear of the locality. Blaze
knows but he can't tell. We've got to
cast about" He picked up the dog
again, puzzled, ana looked about him
in the gulch, suffused with moonlight
"There sh'ud be soft dirt under those
asps, let's give look-see there"
They had not gone five feet into the
trees before man and dog made sim
ultaneous discovery. For Sandy 1t
was a heel-mark left by Plimsoll,
treading heavily under his burden, a
slight depression enough, but plain to
Sandy. Grit began to struggle in his
arms. Molly's hair or body must have
brushed against lower boughs at the
same height that Sandy carried the
wounded Grit and the scent still
clung.
"They c'udn't go fur in this direc-
tion by the looks Of the place. Grit"
said Sandy. "See what you can make
of it." He put him down by the heel
print. Grit uttered low growl deep
back in his throat, his ruff lifted. He
started of, hobhing along, leading
truly over rock or sand, into the cove
where the split rock lay, its crevice
black, the vine curving down into 1t
like a serpent. Where Plimsoll had
laid her down Grit halted and raised
his head, his tongue playing in and
out Of his jaws in his triumphant ex-
citement, his eyes luminous, his tail
waving like the plume Of knight.
Sandy gently patted him, pressed him
down to crouch.
"Down charge, Grit" he whispered
in his ear. you've got 1t. You stay
here Sandy had left his rifle at the
cabin when he carried Grit out. now
he spun the two cylinders of his
Colts, lowered himself into the split.
holding on to the vine, looking
straight into Grit's lambent eyes.
"Stay here. son," he said softly,
and Grit licked the face now on
level with his own. "I'll be back"
Sandy had adventured more dan
gerous chances than this. He felt his
legs dangle into space and his hands