CHAPTER XXV
DIANA
Still no speech came to either of them. After a while Marion rose silently, and went about her work. First, however, she sought the revolver in the grass, and carried it, with her rifle, to the clump of willows by the brook, where both weapons were safely beyond the present limits of Philip’s powers. Then she returned to him with her towel, one end of it wetted and soaped.
“May I, please?” she asked, smiling down at him.
“If you wish,” he answered.
She knelt, and began to wash the grime from his face, to cleanse the wound on his head, and readjust the bandage. Then his hands, after another trip to the stream to rub out the soiled end of the towel; and she was still busy with one of them, when she started back with a cry. His coat had opened wider, and she saw that his shirt was stained with blood. She had forgotten the revolver-shot!
“It’s nothing,” said Haig. “Only a flesh wound, I think.”
“But why didn’t you tell me!” she cried, almost with anger in her alarm.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Let me see it, quick!” she commanded.