Читать книгу Days on the Road: Crossing the Plains in 1865 онлайн

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Gus screamed, jumped from the wagon, ran to her brother, and raised his head in her arms. All who were near enough to hear her scream ran to them and she said, “John has hurt himself with his gun and has fainted, bring restoratives quick.”

In a few seconds, there were half a dozen bottles, with brandy, camphor, ammonia there, and every effort was made to restore him, but all in vain. He died instantly and without a struggle.

When Mr. Kerfoot knew he was dead, he looked for the wound and found a bullet-hole between his shoulders. Just then one of the boys picked up his gun where he had dropped it and exclaimed, “It was not this gun that did the mischief, for it is cold, and the load is in it.”

On looking around to find where the deadly shot had come from, some one took hold of the gun in the front wagon. “Why, this gun is warm. It must have been this gun went off.”

“Oh, no; it could not have been that gun, for there was no cap on it,” said the boy who had thrown the gun there.