“Do you mean Ross Douglas?” Bradford returned wonderingly.
“I mean Fleet Foot—Ross Douglas—yes.”
“He’s not dead,” Bradford hastened to explain, “but he’s——”
“Desperately wounded,” she completed in icy tones.
“Yes.”
“Why did you do it?”
“You wrong me. I didn’t harm him——”
“No,” she interrupted angrily, “but you permitted the warriors you had with you to shoot him, when he was trying to regain his liberty. It was murder! For shame! You are worse than a wild beast!”
As she finished speaking, her breast was heaving and tears were in her violet eyes.