"No," she answered, steadying herself.
"She said you'd been acting sort of queer."
"I can't tell people my troubles."
"Why did you tell me?"
"You might die and blame me."
"Who says I'm going to die?"
"They were afraid you might."
"Well, I don't like to disappoint anybody, but dying is a thing a man is entitled to take his time about."
"Can't I do something till the doctor comes?"
He turned very slowly on his side. Kate made an attempt to examine his shoulder. She was not used to the sight of blood. The clotted and matted clothing awed and sickened her. Even the hay was blood-soaked, but she stuck to her efforts. Supplementing the rude efforts of McAlpin and Kitchen to give him first aid, she cut away, with Laramie's knife, the bullet-torn coat and shirt and tried to get the wound ready for cleansing. "I'm so afraid of doing the wrong thing," she murmured, fearfully.