Once she thought of trying to escape while the men were engrossed in their work, and she arose eagerly.
But when she got to her feet she realized the impossibility of such a thing, for she almost fell. Then she sank down again, and resigned herself to her fate.
But soon the stage was put back on its wheels again, and the guide called to her to come down.
This was a slow and painful operation, during which the driver swore impatiently at the delay. But she accomplished it, and crawled into the stage and sank down on the pallet which had been made for her with the seat cushions.
Now they were off again, faster than before, and with correspondingly more discomfort to Stella. Oh, if the journey would only end, she thought.
"Here we are," she heard the guide's voice in a shout.
The stage stopped, and Stella heard a rush of feet.
"Got her?" some one demanded gruffly.
"Yep, but she's all in," replied the guide. "Her forehead was creased by a bullet, an' the trip has about finished her."
"Can't help that. Get her out. We've got to be moving. The soldiers are out to-night."