"I'm still a-goin' it," he muttered.
A shadow darkened the trail; he heard Mustard whinny.

He became aware of a cabin in front of him; heard an exclamation; saw dimly the slight figure of a woman, sitting on a small porch; as through a mist, he saw her rise and approach him, standing on the edge of the porch, looking at him.
He smiled, bowing low to her over his pony's mane.
"I shot him, ma'am," he said gravely, "but he ain't goin' to die till sundown." As from some great distance a voice seemed to come to him.

"Mercy!" it said.

"What is wrong?
Who is shot ?" "Why, the snake, ma'am," he returned thickly.

He slid down from his pony and staggered to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the slender posts and hanging dizzily on.