“But I killed him.” She told them how and where. “And I lost Jib’s gun. He’ll be furious.”
“He’ll lose more than his little old Colts,” growled the second cowboy.
“It was not Jib’s fault,” declared the girl. “I could not so easily find my way back to the river as he. I had to stay while he went for help. Has word been sent on to the ranch?”
“Everything will be done that can be done for the fellow, of course,” Jane Ann declared. “Uncle Bill will likely come over himself. Then there will be ructions, young lady.”
“And what will Helen and the other girls say?” cried Tom.
“I wish I had thought,” murmured Ruth. “I would have warned Jib not to let Mary know.”
“What’s that?” asked Tom, in surprise, for he had but imperfectly caught Ruth’s words.
“Never mind,” returned the girl from the Red Mill, quickly.
The others were discussing what should be done. Ruth still stood in the doorway and now a murmur from the bed called her turn back into the shack to make the unfortunate on the couch more comfortable—for in his tossings he became more feverish and hot. When she returned to the outer air the others had decided.
“Darcy and I will remain, Ruth,” Tom said, with decision. “We’ll bring the water, and cook something for you to eat out here, and stand guard, turn and turn about. But you are a very obstinate girl.”