He dropped it into her hand with a laugh, and she looked down at it and turned it over with her slim brown finger; then she slipped it into the inner breast-pocket of her habit.
“He’s a plucky young devil, for all he looks like a girl,” he said, filling a blackened clay pipe three inches long. “He never so much as winced, though I must have hurt him pretty badly. He’ll have to keep in bed for a time, and when he does get about he’ll hobble a bit for a day or two. You’d better send Mother Melinda to look after him; it’s a kind of job that’ll suit her down to the ground.”
Esmeralda nodded.
“What are you going to do with that bullet?” he asked. “Wear it for a charm?”
“You mind your own business,” said Esmeralda; and she got up and walked toward her own hut with her nose in the air.
That night a party from Three Star Camp paid a visit to Dog’s Ear—a visit which will be remembered while Dog’s Ear continues to exist. Some of the Three Star Camp men came back with various injuries which kept the doctor employed for some time; how Dog’s Ear came out of the business is not accurately known, for the Three Star Camp men were not given to bragging; but, judging by the air of satisfaction which pervaded the whole camp for quite a week afterward, it may be assumed that Dog’s Ear was pretty severely punished. At any rate, no member of that camp ventured to come within shooting distance of Three Star for a considerable period.
By night-fall Norman grew feverish. Mother Melinda, who was an admirable nurse, was, if not alarmed, a little anxious as she stood by the hard mattress, supported by half a dozen boxes instead of a bedstead, and listened to the young fellow’s incoherent and rambling monologue; and she was a little startled when, long past midnight, the flap of the tent was lifted and Esmeralda entered.
She glided in and stood looking down at the flushed face and staring blue eyes.
“Is he very ill, Melinda?” she asked in a whisper.