Releasing the Arab's neck, he backed up one step and said in his grating voice: "One for the money.. and two for the show.. It was the first line of a jingle chanted in the game of hide-and-seek as a warning from the "seeker" to the "hiders" that he was going after them. Grave Digger took the next line, "Three to get ready…" But before he could finish it with "And here we go," the Arabs had fallen into line with Sonny and had raised their hands high into the air. "Now keep them up," Coffin Ed said. "Or you'll be the next ones lying on the ground," Grave Digger added. Sonny finally got out the words, "He ain't dead. He's just fainted." "That's right," Rubberlips confirmed. "He ain't been hit. It just scared him so he fell unconscious." "Just shake him and he'll come to," Sonny added. The Arabs started to laugh again, but Coffin Ed's sinister face silenced them. Grave Digger stuck Sonny's revolver into his own belt, holstered his own revolver, and bent down and lifted the white man's face. Blue eyes stared fixedly at nothing. He lowered the head gently and picked up a limp, warm hand, feeling for a pulse. "He ain't dead," Sonny repeated. But his voice had grown weaker. "He's just fainted, that's all." He and his two friends watched Grave Digger as though he were Jesus Christ bending over the body of Lazarus. Grave Digger's eyes explored the white man's back. Coffin Ed stood without moving, his scarred face like a bronze mask cast with trembling hands. Grave Digger saw a black wet spot in the white man's thick gray-shot black hair, low down at the base of the skull. He put his fingertips to it and they came off stained. He straightened up slowly, held his wet fingertips in the white headlights; they showed red. He said nothing. The spectators crowded nearer. Coffin Ed didn't notice; he was looking at Grave Digger's bloody fingertips. "Is that blood?" Sonny asked in a breaking whisper.