He himself leaned against the rail.
"You're hurt yourself, Dunwody," exclaimed Jamieson, the blood dripping from his fingers when he half rose.

"What's wrong ?" "Nothing--I got a nick in my leg, I think, but I'm all right.

See to the others." Jamieson bent over the body of young Desha, who had been first to suffer here on the debated ground of Missouri.

He had been shot through the upper body and had died with little suffering.

Of the assailing party two others also were beyond aid, one a young planter who had joined the party some miles back beyond St.
Genevieve, the other a sallow example of the "poor white trash" who made a certain part of the population of the lower country.