“I told you. It’s no use,” said Haig.
But she had one resource of courage of which he was unaware: her faith.
“Well,” she answered stoutly, “I’ve enough in my bundle for one meal anyhow. After that––who knows?”
“Will you give me a drink of water, please?”
She stooped quickly for her hat, the only vessel she had.
“Look in the roll on my saddle,” he said. “Murray put some things there.”
She glanced around uncertainly; then understood. The saddle was on Trixy still. But Trixy was dead, and she did not like the idea of touching her. She hesitated just the length of time required for an unpleasant 261 smile to twist Haig’s lips. She saw it, and her face flamed with shame. A fine start she was making! And it was only a dead horse! She walked resolutely to the prostrate body, hurriedly untied the roll of blankets, and returned running.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried, as she unrolled the bundle. “A cup! A pan! And bacon and bread! And matches.”
“Murray,” said Haig.
“Yes, I know. Mrs. Murray told me, but I’d forgotten.”