Philip dropped on his knees beside him, but Billinger motioned him back.
"It's not bleeding bad," he said.

"I can fix it alone." "You're certain, Billinger--" "Sure!" laughed the agent, though he was biting his lips until they were necked with blood.

"There's no need of you wasting time." For a moment Philip clutched the other's hand.
"We can't understand what this all means, old man--the carrying off of--of Isobel--and the money here, but we'll find out soon!" "Leave that confounded carbine," exclaimed Billinger, as the other rose to mount.

"I did rotten work with it, and the other fellow fixed me with a pistol.

That's why I'm not bleeding very much." The outlaw had disappeared in the black edge of the Bad Lands when Philip dashed up out of the dip into the plain.