She, too, was a trifle surprised to find me lying on the floor in Belknap's room.
"Save me, Mary!" I cried. "Save me!"
What's a little foolish pride when your friend's good is at stake? Yet it hurt to do that.
"Why, Will! Mr. Belknap!" she cried, astonished. "Whatever is the matter? What does this mean?"
"I came to see you, Mary," I said, almost crying, "and Mr. Belknap threatened to kill me."
"To kill you, Will?" she said, in a voice that rang like a man's. "To kill you?"
"Yes," I said piteously. "And I'm not fit to fight him—I've been hurt—see my head, where I've been shot." I tore open my shirt sleeve. "See the cuts! and the bullet holes!"
"Oh, poor boy! poor, poor boy!" she said in such loving pity that I felt a skunk and had a mind to chuck the game. But it was out of my hands now. Mary sprang up and faced Belknap, so strong, graceful, and daring in her rage that I forgot my job in admiring her.
"Explain!" she said.
Belknap opened his mouth. Outside sounded a little click—like a creak in the shutter-hinge. No words came.