Search e-Books

"
He seemed so astounded, he looked so ashamed, so scared, and withal, so
haggard and weak, that Lucy immediately recovered her equanimity.
"Sure I'm a girl. But that's no matter. . . . You've been thrown. Are you
hurt?"
He smiled a weak assent.
"Badly?" she queried. She did not like the way he lay--so limp, so motionless.
"I'm afraid so. I can't move."
"Oh! . . . What shall I do?"
"Can you--get me water?" he whispered, with dry lips.
Lucy flew to her horse to get the small canteen she always carried. But that
had been left on her saddle, and she had ridden Van's. Then she gazed around.
The wash she had crossed several times ran near where the rider lay. Green
grass and willows bordered it. She ran down and, hurrying along, searched for
water. There was water in places, yet she had to go a long way before she
found water that was drinkable. Filling her sombrero, she hurried back to the
side of the rider. It was difficult to give him a drink.
"Thanks, miss," he said, gratefully. His voice was stronger and less hoarse.


Pages:
183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207