“Yes,” he answered, supporting her.
But when they turned to her horse he saw that in its fall it had broken its leg. It stood helplessly by the badger hole, from which it had scrambled, holding up that dangling leg.
“You must take my horse!” he said.
“And leave you here?”
“I—I can outrun them, maybe; if I had a revolver I might stop the foremost and get ground to stand on.”
She put her hand to her bosom and drew out a small revolver.
“It may be foolish for a woman to carry such a weapon, but it will be useful now.”
It was but a little thing, a woman’s toy, yet he took it eagerly.
“I can turn them aside with this; you must take my horse at once.”
He lifted her in his arms and placed her in his saddle. She did not stop for conventionalities, but set a foot in each stirrup.