“I shall hurt you a little, Wah-coo-tah,” said he, “but it can’t be helped. You can bear it without taking anything to smother the pain?”
“Ai,” said the girl; “me used to pain; me stand um, all right.”
For two or three minutes the probe was deep in the wound, and all the time Dell held Wah-coo-tah’s hands and soothed her with gentle words. At last Gentleman Jim straightened up and dropped a small piece of lead on the table.
“That is what did the harm,” said he. “Now we will dress and bandage the wound, and I think Wah-coo-tah will get along well enough.”
“There is no danger?” asked Dell.
“There is always danger of blood-poisoning in a case like this, but I think in Wah-coo-tah’s case the danger is quite remote.”
Wing Hi was pounding his supper-gong when Gentleman Jim finally finished his work, and left the Lucky Strike.
“She’ll get well, Buffalo Bill,” he said to the scout, as he passed through the office.
“I’m glad of that,” answered the scout. “I’m going to get a deed to that mine, Jim, and turn it over to Wah-coo-tah.”
“That would be like you, Cody,” the gambler said.