“The battle you know ’bout, I reckon. Western Jones here shot two of the critters off their horses, but the galoots gathered up their wounded and rode away with ’em. I’ll bet there ain’t a one of ’em that hasn’t a bullet hole in his carcass followin’ thet raid. You fixed one in the leg up on the mountain. I heard ’em say so. Reckon you must have shot high on purpose, ’cause you hit him nigh the hip.”
“I am glad it was no worse,” observed Grace gravely.
“Hope they keep on comin’ ’long, so, by the time we get to the end of the trail, they’ll be purty well shot off.”
“By the way, I shot at and hit an animal that I think must have been a cougar,” Grace informed them. After she had described the terrifying scream of the animal, Ike nodded.
“Thet’s cougar. Must have hit him hard or he’d jumped you. They’re bad medicine when wounded. Reckon he crawled off an’ died. What are you goin’ to do now?”
“I think the first thing to be done is to sew up Mrs. Gray’s scalp wound,” suggested Elfreda. “Do you wish me to do it, Grace?”
“Yes. I was going to ask you to do that for me. Suppose you do it now.”
Elfreda got her first-aid kit and her needles and silk, selected what she wished from the kit and handed the rest to Emma to hold.
“It might be wise to have some one else assist you. Remember, Emma has never worked in a hospital,” suggested Grace, seating herself in the camp chair that Anne had placed for her.
“Time she began,” answered Elfreda briefly. “Emma, you will be present, but not heard, during this proceeding.”