"You will find one at Wilson's ranche," replied the lady.
"How far is that?"
"Good seven miles," answered the guide.
"It will take so long to get him here," exclaimed the first speaker.
"Your best way will be to go there," observed the lady, coldly.
The whole party turned toward her in astonishment; hospitality is the chief virtue of wild countries, and it was an unparalleled thing in the experience of those old guides, to hear a woman so coolly turning a stranger, sick or injured, from her door.
"My dear madam," pleaded the gentleman, "he can not ride; it will be dangerous—death, perhaps."
"He will come to himself, shortly," she answered. "I assure you I have proposed the best mode. I do not mean it unkindly. Heaven knows how sorry I am."
The eldest guide absolutely whistled, and the men stared at each other, while she busied herself over Laurence, although her whole frame shook so violently that she could scarcely stand.
"Can't you give us a bed for our friend?" asked the gentleman. "The rest of us will sleep anywhere, or go away altogether."