“Get off, and we’ll give you some grub,” said Taffy.
Norman essayed to obey, but could not do so.
“He’s hurt his leg,” said Esmeralda, slipping from her horse and going round to him.
Taffy lifted Norman out of the saddle as if he were an infant.
“Mind how you carry him, Taffy!” shouted one of the men, with a laugh. “A rosebud’s a delicate thing, you know.”
Taffy assisted Norman into Taffy’s own tent, and the doctor was sent for. Esmeralda threw herself down outside the tent while the examination was taking place.
The doctor seemed to be inside a long while; but presently he came out, and, in answer to Esmeralda’s questioning eyes, said, with a nod:
“It’s all right, Ralda. The bullet was in his calf. Here it is.” He held it out between his finger and thumb.
Esmeralda was too used to bullets and their effects to shudder or faint; but her face grew a little pale as she held out her hand, and said, very quietly:
“Give it to me.”