One Joe Dell, sitting on a basswood stump, looked at the dirty handkerchief, now bloody, that he had wrapped just below his left knee where a timber saw had cut him wide and to the bone. He hadn’t felt it, knew only when he looked down. There was a lot of blood and he was light-headed. A backdraw buck with the saw. The gang boss looked at his leg and told him to go home and come back when he...
