Now they disrobed the bride that was no bride, even as the rifle fire died away in the darkness. Women brought frontier drafts of herbs held sovereign, and laid her upon the couch that was not to have been hers alone.
She opened her eyes, moaning, held out her arms to her mother, not to any husband; and her mother, bloody, unnerved, weeping, caught her to her bosom.
"My lamb! My little lamb! Oh, dear me! Oh, dear me!"
The wailing of others for their dead arose. The camp dogs kept up a continual barking, but there was no other sound. The guards now lay out in the dark. A figure came creeping toward the bridal tent.
"Is she alive? May I come in? Speak to me, Molly!"
[pg 234]
"Go on away, Sam!" answered the voice of the older woman. "You can't come in."
"But is she alive? Tell me!" His voice was at the door which he could not pass.
"Yes, more's the pity!" he heard the same voice say.