She followed the Indian woman from the room and he heard her voice speaking in soft musical Spanish as they went.
An hour later Barbara, moving quietly toward his room to see if he was asleep or wanted anything, found him fully dressed in a big easy chair in the living room.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, in joyful surprise. "What are you doing out here?
I thought I told you to sleep."
"Your orders were inconsistent," he returned lazily. "You can't cure a patient and still continue treating him as if he were an invalid. I don't need sleep. I need—Bring your chair and sit over here and let me tell you what I need," he finished.
She did not answer, but going to his room returned with a pillow, which she arranged deftly behind his head; then, kneeling, adjusted the foot rest of the reclining chair. "There; isn't that better?"
"Bring your chair," he insisted.
Again she left the room, returning this time with a bit of old soft muslin. Drawing her easy chair to a position facing him she seated herself and began converting the material in her hands into bandages. "The men will be here with Abe any time now," she explained. "I have everything ready except these."
For a little while he watched her in silence as she tore the white cloth into long strips and rolled them neatly.
"Don't you care to know what it is that I need?" he asked at last.
She bent her head over her work and answered softly: "Whenever you are ready to tell me."