The kissing and congratulations after the wedding were interrupted by
the shouts of a man on horseback, and riding hard.
"Where's the minister? Send for Doc Miller! That beast of a Mexican
horse thief - he' shot Jim Muldoon down at Dolton's Bar. Jim caught he's
stealing his horse and I'm afraid the dirty greaser's killed him. We got
'im, though, before he skipped. Somebody go down to Rattlesnake for Doc
Miller. They're bringing 'em both here."
When Doc Miller saw Muldoon stretched on the barroom table, the same
table which a few minutes before had served as an altar he shook his
head.
"He will be gone in half an hour," he said. The men standing about began
taking off their hats.
"I wish to write home," whispered Muldoon. The young mother handed her
baby to its father and seizing pencil and paper, ran forward. The
minister opened his prayer book at the service for the dying.
When that service had been read, and what had been Muldoon carried away
to be made ready for the last sleep, only the minister and the tall
Englishman were left in the bar-room.
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