im with bitter sarcasm:

"Perhaps if you _tried_ to do something, instead of standing there,
telling me something that happened _ages_ ago, I wouldn't have to sit
here and endure this awful m-m-misery!"

The break in her voice brought him on his knees at her side. "Why, I
reckon it _must_ hurt like the devil, ma'am." He looked around
helplessly.

"Haven't you got something that you might take it off with?" she demanded
tearfully. "Haven't you got a knife?"

He reddened guiltily. "I clean forgot it ma'am." He laughed with
embarrassment. "I expect I'd never do for a doctor, ma'am; I'm so excited
an' forgetful. An' I recollect, now that you mention it, that we had to
cut Hiller's boot off. That was the man I was tellin' you about. He--"

"Oh, dear," she said with heavy resignation, "I suppose you simply _must_
talk! Do you _like_ to see me suffer?"

"Why, shucks, I feel awful sorry for you, ma'am. I'll sure hurry."

While he had been speaking he had drawn out his knife, and with as much
delicacy as the circumstances would permit, he accomplished the
destruction of the boot. Then, after many admonitions for him to be
careful, and numerous sharp intakings of her breath, the boot was
withdrawn, showing her stockinged foot, puffed to abnormal proportions.
She looked at it askance.

"Do you think it is b-broken?" she asked him, dreading.

He grasped it tenderly, discovered that the ankle moved freely, and after
pressing it in several places, looked up at her.

"I don't think it's broke, ma'am. It's a bad sprain though, I reckon. I
reckon it ought to be rubbed--so's to bring back the blood that couldn't
get in while the boot was on."

The foot was rubbed, he having drawn off the stocking with as much
delicacy as he had exhibited in taking off the boot. And then while
Randerson considerately withdrew under pretense of looking at Patches,
the stocking was put on again. When he came back it was to be met with a
request:

"Won't you please find my pony and bring him back?"

"Why, sure, ma'am." He started again for Patches, but halted and looked
back at her. "You won't be scared again?"

"No," she said. And then: "But you'll hurry, won't you?"

"I reckon." He was in the saddle quickly, loping Patches to the crest of
a hill near by in hopes of getting a view of the recreant pony. He got a
glimpse of it, far back on the plains near some timber, and he was about
to shout the news to Ruth, who was watching him intently,