Queen did all anybody could do for me--now--unless it's pray." Colter laughed at this--the slow, easy, drawling laugh of a Texan.

But Ellen felt pity for this wounded uncle.

She had always hated him.

He had been a drunkard, a gambler, a waster of her father's property; and now he was a rustler and a fugitive, lying in pain, perhaps mortally hurt.
"Yes, uncle--I will pray for y'u," she said, softly.
The change in his voice held a note of sadness that she had been quick to catch.
"Ellen, y'u're the only good Jorth--in the whole damned lot," he said.
"God! I see it all now....

We've dragged y'u to hell!" "Yes, Uncle Tad, I've shore been dragged some--but not yet--to hell," she responded, with a break in her voice.
"Y'u will be--Ellen--unless--" "Aw, shut up that kind of gab, will y'u ?" broke in Colter, harshly.
It amazed Ellen that Colter should dominate her uncle, even though he was wounded.