"I—I have none! Oh, I can't go back to—him!"
Her eyes did not open, and she appeared to be in a delirium.
"Poor thing!" said Amy, softly. "Bathe her head, Betty."
"Yes, I think that will be better than trying to force her to drink." Dipping her handkerchief in the water Betty wiped away the blood from the cut. It was seen to be a small one.
"That ought not to make her unconscious," said Betty. "More likely she has some additional injury; possibly a blow on some other part of her head. Girls, did you ever see such glorious hair!" Betty caressed it. Truly there was a mass of it, and it was of beautiful silkness and softness. It was still partly bound up, but the autoists could easily tell that it must reach almost to the ground when the girl stood up.
"What in the world could she have been doing up the tree?" asked Grace, as Mollie came back with more water.
"It is the oddest thing," agreed Betty, bathing the stranger's face and wrists.
"Are you sure we didn't hit her with the auto?" asked Mollie, tremblingly.
"I am almost sure you did not," spoke Betty, positively. "As she started to fall you steered out. She just toppled to the ground. See, there is not a mark of dust on her dress, as there would be if the tires had struck her."
"Yes, but perhaps the mud guard, or——"