"We were under the impression that the kindness was chiefly on your side," said Captain Hanfield. "Still we are glad you find us a civil lot of Indians."
"Please remember," she answered earnestly, "that was not my thought, but one impressed upon me by those who did not know. Only within a very short time have I ever seen Northern people or soldiers, and they treat me with nothing but courtesy."
"Perhaps you are to blame for that," said the captain pleasantly.
"I can't help feeling glad that our good opinion is becoming mutual," she replied, smiling. "Won't you please put on your hats and let me come and go as a matter of course? I don't like to be sort of received every time I come. I just want to help those I can help, to get well."
"You have only to express your wishes, Miss Baron," was the hearty reply.
"Thank you. Is there anything more that I can do for you? Is there any one who specially needs—"
As she was glancing round her eyes fell upon Yarry. His face was so drawn and haggard with pain that, from an impulse of pity, she went directly to him and said gently, "I fear, sir, you are suffering very much."
"I be—oh, hang—there, there, miss, I'll stand it a little longer. I could stand hell-fire for your sake. I didn't mean to say that. Guess I better keep still."
His face, now seen attentively, revealed more to her in tuition than his words. She stooped by his side and said piteously, "Oh, you are suffering—I FEEL that you are suffering terribly. I must do something to relieve you."
"Oh, now, miss," he replied, forcing a ghastly sort of smile, "I'm all right, I be—well, I am. Bless your kind heart! Don't worry about me. I'll smoke my pipe and go to sleep pretty soon. You look tired yourself, little one. I will feel better if you won't worry about me, I be—well, I will. I'm just like the other fellows, you know."