“You must not do that,” I exclaimed, irritably.
“Karasch’s arm is bad too,” she replied. “Isn’t it, Karasch?”
“Yes, it is paining me, Burgwan,” he declared then. “I cannot go any further;” and he dismounted and came to help me.
“Then I’ll ride on and find the road and return,” I said.
“No,” exclaimed Karasch, as he seized my horse’s bridle.
“Stand away, Karasch,” I cried, angrily. I was more like a fractious, obstinate child just then than a reasoning man. I felt I was too weak to go on and was angry with them both because I could not hide it.
“You must get off, Burgwan,” he returned, firmly.
“I’ll break your other arm if you don’t loose my bridle, Karasch.”
“Then I’ll hold it. You won’t break mine, Burgwan,” said Mademoiselle, taking it quickly. “Hold my horse, Karasch. I am faint for want of food and rest, Burgwan. Won’t you help me?”
“You are only doing this because you think I’m such a weak fool as not to be able to keep going,” I declared, angrily. “Please to loose that bridle, Mademoiselle.”