"What'll we do to stop this bleeding here?"
McTeague did not answer, but looked intently at the blood-stained bosom of his shirt.
"Mac," cried Trina, her face close to his, "tell us something — the best thing we can do to stop your ear bleeding."
"Collodium," said the dentist.
"But we can't get to that right away; we—"
"There's some ice in our lunch basket," broke in Heise. "We brought it for the beer; and take the napkins and make a bandage."
"Ice," muttered the dentist, "sure, ice, that's the word."
Mrs. Heise and the Ryers were looking after Marcus's broken arm. Selina sat on the slope of the grass, gasping and sobbing. Trina tore the napkins into strips, and, crushing some of the ice, made a bandage for her husband's head.'
The party resolved itself into two groups; the Ryers and Mrs. Heise bending over Marcus, while the harness-maker and Trina came and went about McTeague, sitting on the ground, his shirt, a mere blur of red and white, detaching itself violently from the background of pale-green grass. Between the two groups was the torn and trampled bit of turf, the wrestling ring; the picnic baskets, together with empty beer bottles, broken egg-shells, and discarded sardine tins, were scattered here and there. In the middle of the improvised wrestling ring the sleeve of Marcus's shirt fluttered occasionally in the sea breeze.
Nobody was paying any attention to Selina. All at once she began to giggle hysterically again, then cried out with a peal of laughter: