The wound in his shoulder had bled a good deal, and Freckles’ hard hoofs had crippled one leg. He could not jump about with agility, and although he was no coward, he was slow in returning to the charge.
When he did, Ruth struck again, and with good effect. Again and again she beat him off. He once caught her skirt and tore it from the waist-binding; but she eluded his powerful claws and struck him down again. Then, falling upon him unmercifully, she beat his head into the hard ground until he was all torn and bleeding and could not see to scramble at her.
It was an awful experience for the girl; but she conquered her antagonist before her strength was spent. When he lay, twitching his limbs in the final throes, she staggered back to where her pony stood and there, leaning upon his neck, sobbed and shook for several minutes, while Freckles put his soft nose into her palm and nuzzled her comfortably.
“Oh, oh, Freckles! what a terrible thing!” she sobbed. “He’s dead! he’s dead!”
She could say nothing more, nor could she recover her self-possession for some time. Then she climbed into the saddle and turned the pony’s head toward the deserted huts without once looking back at the blood-bedabbled body and the gory club.
At the camp, however, she was once more her own mistress. The fact that she must attend the sick man bolstered up her courage. She hobbled Freckles again and recovered the bucket of water. John Cox (if that was his name) raged in his fever and clutched at his precious coat, and was not quiet again until she had cooled his head and hands with the fresh water.
After that he fell into a light sleep and Ruth went about the cabin, trying to set the poor furniture to rights and removing the debris that had collected in the corners. Every few moments she was at the door, looking out for either enemy or friend. But no other creature confronted her until the sound of pony hoofs delighted her ear and Tom Cameron and Jane Ann, with two of the cowboys from the Rolling River outfit, dashed up to the shack.
“Ruth! Ruth!” cried the ranchman’s niece, leaping off of her pony. “Come out of that place at once! Do as I tell you——”
“Don’t come here, dear—don’t touch me,” returned her friend, firmly. “I know what I am about. I mean to stay and nurse this man. I do not believe there is so much danger as Jib says——”
“Uncle Bill will have his hide!” cried Jane Ann, indignantly. “You wait and see.”