found a fine place.
Tell me--how do you feel?"

"There's pain--here," she replied, and moved her hand to her left side.

"Why, that's strange! Your wounds are on your right side. I believe
you're hungry. Is the pain a kind of dull ache--a gnawing?"

"It's like--that."

"Then it's hunger." Venters laughed, and suddenly caught himself with a
quick breath and felt again the little shock. When had he laughed? "It's
hunger," he went on. "I've had that gnaw many a time. I've got it now.
But you mustn't eat. You can have all the water you want, but no food
just yet."

"Won't I--starve?"

"No, people don't starve easily. I've discovered that. You must lie
perfectly still and rest and sleep--for days."

"My hands--are dirty; my face feels--so hot and sticky; my boots hurt."
It was her longest speech as yet, and it trailed off in a whisper.

"Well, I'm a fine nurse!"

It annoyed him that he had never thought of these things. But then,
awaiting her death and thinking of her comfort were vastly different
matters. He unwrapped the blanket which covered her. What a slender girl
she was! No wonder he had been able to carry her miles and pack her up
that slippery ladder of stone. Her boots were of soft, fine leather,
reaching clear to her knees. He recognized the make as one of a
boot-maker in Sterling. Her spurs, that he had stupidly neglected to
remove, consisted of silver frames and gold chains, and the rowels,
large as silver dollars, were fancifully engraved. The boots slipped off
rather hard. She wore heavy woollen rider's stockings, half length, and
these were pulled up over the ends of her short trousers. Venters took
off the stockings to note her little feet were red and swollen. He
bathed them. Then he removed his scarf and bathed her face and hands.

"I must see your wounds now," he said, gently.

She made no reply, but watched him steadily as he opened her blouse and
untied the bandage. His strong fingers trembled a little as he removed
it. If the wounds had reopened! A chill struck him as he saw the angry
red bullet-mark, and a tiny stream of blood winding from it down her
white breast. Very carefully he lifted her to see that the wound in her
back had closed perfectly. Then he washed the blood from her breast,
bathed the wound, and left it unbandaged, open to the air.

Her eyes thanked him.

"Listen," he said, earnestly. "I've had some wounds, and I've seen many.
I know a little about them. The hole in yo