Gary tried to speak, tried to stir. He could do neither. Then another voice -- the old-timer, Pete Dunn -- breaking in: "Ain't that blood there on his shirt?" Hands worked at his buttons, ripping his shirt open. Somebody swore. "Why, that's a bullet wound!" Hands were under him then, lifting him. And as they raised Jim Gary off the ground, the last gray of twilight seemed to fade. Consciousness ebbed, and darkness swept completely over him ...