“And leave you?” she answered. “Not I.”
“Hang it, girl, can’t ye understand? I’ve got a lead plug in my side, and to take me on will be a bother. Ye can’t do it and land the despatches in Bonita.”
“Despatches or no despatches,” answered the girl, “I’ll not leave you here to be killed.”
“I tell ye to go on!” growled the sergeant fiercely.
“And I tell you I won’t until you go with me. If you want me to get the despatches through, you’ll have to let me help you.”
Already Dell had opened the sergeant’s blouse. The moonlight was brilliant, there on top of the hogback, and she folded the trooper’s cotton handkerchief, laid it over the wound in his right side, then pulled the army belt up until it compressed the handkerchief and held it in place. Next she led up the trooper’s horse.
“I’ll help you to get into the saddle,” said she.
“It’ll be a tough job,” Patterson groaned; “an’ I doubt if we can make it.”
“We will make it.”
“I can’t keep my saddle after ye get me into it.”