He's clean out of his head." They leaned over him, and Dick called: "George! George! It's Dick Mason, your comrade, come to help you back to camp!" But Warner merely stared with feverish, unseeing eyes.
"He's out of his head, as I told you, an' he's like to be for many hours," said the lantern bearer.

"It's a shore thing that I won't shoot him to-morrow, nor he won't shoot me." He leaned over Warner and carefully examined the wound.
"He's lucky, after all," he said, "the bullet went in just under the right shoulder, but it curved, as bullets have a way of doin' sometimes, an' has come out on the side.

There ain't no lead in him now, which is good.

He was pow'ful lucky, too, in not bein' hit in the head, 'cause he ain't got no such skull as Sam has, not within a mile of it.

His skull wouldn't have turned no bullet.