"No! I want die!" whispered Rina in a voice as dull and hopeless as the sound of all-day rain in the grass. "I say I kill myself. He laugh. He see me tak' bad medicine. He don' care. I fall down. He leave me. I t'ink I die then. I ver' glad. But I tak' too much; and it only mak' my stomach sick. Bam-by I try to go to lake and jomp in—but my head go off!"
In spite of her unwillingness, Garth forced more of the stimulant down her throat. Presently she was able to sit up. She bowed her back, and buried her face in her crossed arms.
"Ride with me after them!" urged Garth. "They have less than an hour's start! We will overtake them at their first camp. Rouse yourself!"
But Rina only shook her head; and continued to murmur: "He want me die! He glad I die!"
Garth's desperate need brought craft to his aid. "Very well," he said coolly. "I shoot him on sight! Mabyn goes first!"
Rina, touched home, raised an agitated face. "No! No!" she said tremblingly. "Grylls, him took her—not 'Erbe't!"
"No matter!" he said, feigning to leave her. "Mabyn dies like a dog—unless you come with me."
Rina struggled to her knees, and clutched at him. "Wait a minute!" she stammered.
"Come with me, and I promise you his life, if I can save it," he urged. "I will give it to you!"
She attempted to rise; and he lifted her. She stood swaying dizzily, clinging to his arm for support.