"It would be good to die for you!" he said.
"No, no!"—sharply. "Not that, Tom! Live for me ... live for me!"
She felt him start and shudder and sway and a moan broke from his lips as a searching, tearing thing ripped at the small of his back, burrowing devilishly into his very vitals. She clutched him closer, not understanding.
"It's all I've got to give you," he muttered unnaturally. "My life's all I've got, ma'am. I'd be proud to give it.... It's a little thing to give to pay ... a debt like I owe you....
"You keep your body behind mine ... always ... until we get to the top...."
"Tom!"—in alarm. "You're hit.... Oh, Tom!" She shook him, hitching herself about that she might see his face. "Tom!"
"A scratch," he said. "Just a—"
The horse threw up his head and recoiled as a bullet sang past.
"A—scratch," he finished.
The girl looked about wildly. She knew there was no shelter there, not a ledge behind which they could hide, not a tree that would screen them. The wall rose straight on one side, fell sheer on the other. There was no place to go but up; they could not turn there and go down for there was no room ... the pinto, shot through the belly, had tried that!