Quill's Window

by George Barr McCutcheon

"Darling!" he whispered passionately. She half arose, caught once more by the irresistible spell that had first swept her into his embrace. He shook his head. Then she heard him speak. He was looking past her.

"I'm all right, Mrs. Strong. Don't mind me. Telephone for help."

"I have telephoned," cried Mrs. Strong, coming toward them quickly. "Help is coming. Good heavens! You are bleeding! Were you hit?"

III — The question aroused Alix. She was aware of something wet and sticky on the palm of her hand. She looked. It was covered with blood. Then she remembered putting her hand against his cheek. As if fascinated she stared for a second or two before her wits returned. Mrs. Strong must not see that bloody hand. She would know! Guiltily she clenched her fingers again and thrust her hand behind her back. She shuddered at the feel of the moist, sticky substance, and turned suddenly sick. Her one thought was to get to her room where she could wash away the tell-tale evidence. Again she heard him speaking, and hung on his words.

"Nothing but a scratch. I fell while chasing him. He got the start of me. My overcoat bothered me. I got it off, but not in time. It's out there somewhere. My rotten old leg is the worst. I twisted it when I jumped over the fence. That's when I fell. Tripped over some bushes or something. I was gaining on him. Up in the woods, you see. He was making for the road above. Oh, if this leg of mine was any good, I would have—" He broke off short to grip his knee with both hands, his face twitching with pain. The sentences came jerkily, breathlessly.

"Send for Dr. Smith!" Alix cried out suddenly. "Be quick! He has been shot,—I know he has been shot. Go—"

"It's a scratch, I tell you, Alix," he protested. "He didn't get me. He fired at me, but it was dark. I'm all right. There is no time to lose. If they get after him at once they'll catch him. I can show them which way he went. Where the devil are they? We ought to have every man in town out there in the woods. Did you tell 'em to bring guns? He's armed. He—"

"You ARE hurt," cried Alix. "You MUST have the doctor. Oh, for heaven's sake, DO SOMETHING!" The last was directed impatiently to Mrs. Strong.

"I'll give him a basin of water,—and some court plaster," said the older woman, who had looked closely at the scratch on the young man's cheek. "It doesn't amount to anything,—if that's all, Mr. Thane?"

"That's all,—except my knee, and that will be all right in a few minutes. Let me sit down here a minute. Not in there,—I'm covered with dirt and burrs and,—I might get some of this filthy blood on,—that's all right, Mrs. Strong, thank you. I'll be able to go out with the gang as soon as they come. Gad! It's going to be great sport. Man-hunting!"