"And I wish with all my heart you had killed the other," said the doctor,
bitterly. "He got off, I suppose."
The Panther showed his white teeth in a laugh. "No," he said, pointing to
me: "she got him--she and the cat. Pretty well for one little squaw and
pussy-cat. Mamma, you keep that kitty always."
"Where is the scoundrel?" asked the doctor.
"Shut up in that closet."
Here the man within cried out that he was "kilt" already, and should be
hung if we did not let him go.
"I hope you will, with all my heart," said the doctor.
With some difficulty we helped the Panther into the parlor and laid him on
the sofa.
He told us the story in a few words. He had been asleep when the door was
burst open. The man whom he had killed had fired the shot. He had kept his
feet to strike one blow with the axe, and the other man had sprung upon
him as he fell.
The doctor did what little he could to ease his patient, and then went
away, but soon returned with some men from the village, who were quite
ready to lynch the criminal when they heard what he had done. They took
the man away, however, and I am happy to say he afterward received the
heaviest sentence the law would allow. He confessed that, knowing the
chief had a large sum in his possession, himself and his companion had
broken the lock of the rifle, intending to waylay the old man and shoot
him in the woods.
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