The stranger bent tenderly over the sleeping form at her side.
“No, not hurt,” she answered; “but sick. She’s got a fever.”
“But how do you happen to be here?”
“Our hoss up and died on us, and me husband started to walk to our shack—about forty mile on a piece. That was yesterday noon. But we have so little food, and less water—”
“We can help you out!” cried Ethel, who had been listening from the driver’s seat of the small car. “We have lots—”
“But me child may die before me husband gets back with another hoss! It’s a doctor we want—” She broke into sobs again—“or a comfortable bed—”
Mrs. Remington’s heart was sincerely touched; she hesitated no longer, for she knew that the scouts would be with her to a girl. They would sacrifice some of their surplus time and money to drive the child to safety.
“We will take you to your husband,” she volunteered; “at least if you are willing to leave your wagon here.”
A look of intense gratitude crossed the woman’s face.
“You mean to say you would go forty mile out of yer way, just to help a woman you have never seen before?” she asked, incredulously.