There lay Mrs. Trevor all in a heap. The afternoon sun caught her hair, which flamed gold, and a green humming-bird whirred round as though it were some big flower. Since Jones would have shied over the tree-tops at a corpse or a whiff of blood, I knew she'd only fainted, but felt at her breast to make sure. I tell you it felt like an outrage to lay my paw on a sleeping lady, and still worse I'd only my dirty old hat to carry water from a seepage in the cliff. My heart thumped when I knelt to sprinkle the water, and when that blamed humming-bird came whirring past my ear, I jumped as though the devil had got me, splashing the hatful over Mrs. Trevor. At that her eyes opened, staring straight at my face, but she made out a sort of smile when she saw it was only me.
"Jesse!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Seen my husband?"
"No, ma'am."
"I don't know what's come over him," she moaned, clenching her teeth; "he fired at me."
"That gun I traded to him?"
"Four shots."
"You was running away when your colt shied at the bear?"
"My ankle! Jesse, it hurts so dreadfully. Yes the left."