"You are not a bit of trouble; the doctor said let you sleep as much as possible."
"I don't need sleep; I've been hurt worse than this before."
She put her hand on his brow. "It'll make you feverish to talk, Mr. Westerfelt; go to sleep."
"Did they jail Wambush?"
"Yes."
"Toughest customer I ever tackled." He laughed, dryly.
She made no reply. She went to the fire and began stirring the contents of a three-legged pot on the coals. To see her better, he turned over on his side. The bed slats creaked.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, running to him, "you'll break the stitches, and bleed again. Don't move that way."
He raised the blanket and looked down at his wound.
"I reckon they are holding all right, though I did feel a little twinge."