Hell, I'm no horse-stealer! But I couldn't explain to them, except
that I had to git to Bindon to save a man's life. If people laugh in your
face, it's no use explainin'. I took a roan from Weigall's, and they got
after me. 'Bout six miles up they shot at me an' hurt me."
She saw that one arm hung limp at his side and that his wrist was wound
with a red bandana.
She started forward. "Are you hurt bad? Can I bind it up or wash it for
you? I've got plenty of hot water here, and it's bad letting a wound get
stale."
He shook his head. "I washed the hole clean in the creek below. I doubled
on them. I had to go down past your place here, and then work back to be
rid of them. But there's no telling when they'll drop on to the game, and
come back for me. My only chance was to git to you. Even if I had a
horse, I couldn't make Bindon in time. It's two days round the gorge by
trail. A horse is no use now--I lost too much time since last night. I
can't git to Bindon to-morrow in time, if I ride the trail."
"The river?" she asked abruptly.
"It's the only way. It cuts off fifty mile. That's why I come to you."
She frowned a little, her face became troubled, and her glance fell on
his arm nervously.
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