It was evident they recognized him at once, and that he was the "Mr.
John" whose name they had called, for so they spoke of him to each
other as they busied themselves about him.
"I expect I've been a fool again," Dunn thought to himself ruefully,
as from a little distance, well-sheltered in the darkness, he
crouched upon the ground and listened and watched. "I may have
ruined everything. Any one but a fool would have asked him what he
meant when he hit out like that instead of flying into a rage and
hitting back the way I did. Most likely it was some mistake when
he said he knew who I was and what I wanted--at least if it
wasn't--I hope I haven't killed him, anyhow."
Secure in the protection the dark night afforded him, he remained
sufficiently near at hand to be able to assure himself soon that
his overthrown adversary was certainly not killed, for now he began
to express himself somewhat emphatically concerning the manner in
which the two new-comers were ministering to him.
Presently he got to his feet and, with one of them supporting him
on each side, began to limp away, and Dunn followed them, though
cautiously and at a distance, for he was still greatly exhausted
and in neither the mood nor the condition for running unnecessary
risks.
The big man, Mr. John, as the others called him, seemed little
inclined for speech, but the others talked a good deal, subsiding
sometimes when he told them gruffly to be quiet but invariably
soon beginning again their expressions of sympathy and vows of
vengeance against his unknown assailant.
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