He cut spruce boughs and made a bed in the largest cave and laid the girl there. The first intimation that he had of her being aroused from sleep or lethargy was a low call for water.
He hurried down into the ravine with his canteen. It was a shallow, grass-green place with aspens growing up everywhere. To his delight he found a tiny brook of swift-running water. Its faint tinge of amber reminded him of the spring at Cottonwoods, and the thought gave him a little shock. The water was so cold it made his fingers tingle as he dipped the canteen. Having returned to the cave, he was glad to see the girl drink thirstily. This time he noted that she could raise her head slightly without his help.
“You were thirsty,” he said. “It’s good water. I’ve found a fine place. Tell me—how do you feel?”
“There’s pain—here,” she replied, and moved her hand to her left side.
“Why, that’s strange! Your wounds are on your right side. I believe you’re hungry. Is the pain a kind of dull ache—a gnawing?”
“It’s like—that.”
“Then it’s hunger.” Venters laughed, and suddenly caught himself with a quick breath and felt again the little shock. When had he laughed? “It’s hunger,” he went on. “I’ve had that gnaw many a time. I’ve got it now. But you mustn’t eat. You can have all the water you want, but no food just yet.”
“Won’t I—starve?”
“No, people don’t starve easily. I’ve discovered that. You must lie perfectly still and rest and sleep—for days.”
“My hands—are dirty; my face feels—so hot and sticky; my boots hurt.” It was her longest speech as yet, and it trailed off in a whisper.