“She's not dead, man,” he said, as Philip's red eyes glared up at him. “Here—water.”
“My God—it's strange,” almost moaned Philip. “Billinger—you understand—she's going to be my wife—if she lives—”
That was all of the story he told, but Billinger knew what those few words meant.
“She's going to live,” he said. “See—there's color coming back into her face—she's breathing.” He bathed her face in water, and placed the canteen to her lips.
A moment later Philip bent down and kissed her. “Isobel—my sweetheart—” he whispered.
“We must hurry with her to the water hole,” said Billinger, laying a sympathetic hand on Philip's shoulder. “It's the sun. Thank God, nothing has happened to her, Steele. It's the sun—this terrible heat—”
He almost pulled Philip to his feet, and when he had mounted Billinger lifted the girl very gently and gave her to him.
Then, with the agent leading in the trail of the outlaws, they set off at a walk through the sickening sun-glare for the water hole in the edge of the Bad Lands.