"Run ahead, Jenkins, and notify the commander of this," said Mansfield, "and see that no crowd is in our way."
Jenkins darted away, and the three moved carefully through the wood toward the clearing. An occasional moan from their burden was the only sign of life she gave. Not a word was spoken by the three, as they made their way forward. The rangers hardly dared to look down upon the form their arms sustained, but gazed anxiously toward the block-house, evidently in fear of a curious multitude of people. The commander, with praiseworthy foresight, had unbarred the gates, and prepared the block-house for her reception. Though nearly struck dumb with Jenkins's intelligence, he did not allow it to interfere with his duty. He briefly informed those gathered around what had happened, and besought them to retire and leave the way clear for him. So, when Mansfield and the rangers brought their charge, there were only one or two to receive them.
"Is it a bad wound?" he asked, as he closed the doors of the block-house behind him.
"I fear so; you will have to take charge of her."
"Place her on the litter, and remain with me a moment."
The commander of the fort was the physician of the settlement. It may seem strange that a man holding his position, could find time to attend to the duties thus devolving upon him. But he did find abundant time; for it must be remembered, that such a thing as sickness is rarely known in a frontier settlement. The time when his services were in requisition, was upon an occasion like the present, directly after an engagement with an enemy.
After the sufferer had been placed in the lower room of the block-house, the commander desired all to depart, so that he might be left alone with her. His determination was to make an examination of her wound at once. He saw that she was hurt only in the corner of the forehead, where it seemed was a slight fracture of the bone.
As he approached the bed, the Frontier Angel sprang to her feet and screamed for him to keep away. He did his best to pacify her, but she became more frantic each moment, until he desisted out of fear of the consequences. After a time she seated herself upon the bed, and speaking in a soothing manner, he gently approached her again. But she was wilder than before, and he retreated at once. From her actions, she seemed to imagine him to be the renegade McGable, and no words upon his part could change the impression.
The good physician sat a while in a dilemma. He saw it was imperatively necessary that her wound should be attended to, and it was impossible for him to do this alone. After debating a moment, he called in Mansfield and Peterson.
The latter entered, and the sufferer meekly submitted at once. Mansfield took her gently but firmly by one arm, and the ranger held the other. The physician then stepped forward, and, with a simple instrument, examined the wound. A moment showed him the entire truth. A bullet, years before, had glanced over the forehead in such a manner as to press inward a thin strip of bone directly upon the brain. This simple fact had caused that singular hallucination which she had so long evinced. The wound had become cicatrized, leaving the bone in this position. Another shot, precisely similar, had glanced in the same manner, reopening the wound and increasing her aberration. A simple action of the physician removed this cause of her insanity.