“Kendall Marsh and his gang. Oh, I know how yuh feel, Jane. It’s another case of where the wolves turn on each other, I reckon. But I brought her here to you, because I know yuh. She didn’t want to come, but she was afraid to stay, and she was sufferin’ awful. Mebbe her ankle is busted and I’ll have to get the doctor.”
Harry came out through the door, slipping into his coat, and in a few words Cultus told him what had happened. Harry said nothing, except, “Jane, you heard all this?”
“He told me about it,” she replied. “I guess it’s up to us to take her.”
“We’ll bring her in,” said Cultus.
Della said nothing, when they carried her in and placed her on a couch in the living-room. Her face was white and drawn from suffering and she almost fainted when they placed her on the couch.
Jane stood in the centre of the room, looking at her, but Della kept her eyes averted, as though ashamed to look at Jane. Cultus took off her shoe and examined the ankle.
“Looks like a bad sprain,” he said. “We’ll soak it good in hot water and liniment, and then bandage it tight. Can you get the water, Jane?”
“I’ll find the liniment,” offered Harry.
Della looked at Cultus, after the others had left the room, and he smiled at her.
“Don’t you think I have any conscience?” she fairly hissed at him. “Bringing me out here! Friendly torture, eh? Making me face that girl, after what I’ve⸺Oh, well.”