Lend me a rig of some sort and I'll take Bud home." So we went out to Beauregard's stable with a lantern and hitched up one of his hosses to a light road wagon.

He went into the house and come back agin with a mattress fur Bud to lie on, and a part of a bottle of whiskey.

And I drove back to that lumber pile.

I guess I nearly killed Bud getting him into there.

But he wasn't bleeding much from his hip--it was his arm was giving him fits.
We went slow, and the dawn broke with us four miles out of town.