Ted sat with Stella, watching the Indian girl, who had again fallen into a deep sleep.
"Did she say what her secret is?" asked Ted.
"No, I didn't ask her, and I don't intend to. If she wants to confide in me, well and good, but I am not a sharer of other peoples' troubles or secrets. I have as many of my own as I can take care of."
It was almost dawn when they heard the rumble of wagon wheels, and Bud drove over the top of the hill, and came toward them.
"By my Aunt Hester's black cat's tail, I never had sech a time gittin' a team hitched up as this one. It took me an hour to ketch 'em out o' ther pony herd, and yer talks about drivers, I'd jest as soon try ter drive two bolts o' red-hot chain lightning. But I've got all ther ginger worked outer 'em now, an' I reckon that nigh bay will not never buck no more."
"Now we'll see if she can be moved," said Ted. "I think we can lift her right on the blanket on which she is lying, and into the wagon, if you will lend a hand, Stella."
Each of the four took a corner of the blanket, and with some difficulty, for Singing Bird suffered excruciating pain with every motion, they got her into the wagon and started for the camp, driving slowly over the rough ground.
It was almost daylight when they reached camp, where willing hands helped to make the girl comfortable in a tent which Ted rigged up.
Then Ted and Stella went to work with all their surgical skill, and soon had Singing Bird's wound properly dressed. Stella stood guard over her, and nursed her as tenderly as if the Indian had been a sister of her blood.
Ted had stayed the herd until Singing Bird should be well enough to get up. The pasturage was fine, and after their arduous drive Ted thought that it would do the cattle no harm to have a long rest.