It will be well in a day or two, I am sure you
will find your bullet in the carcass of our lamented friend, the
probable owner of this place."
Ravone, a hungry-looking youth, took charge of the wounded leader, while
her highness retreated to the farthest corner of the cavern. There she
sat and trembled while the wounds were being dressed. Aunt Fanny bustled
back and forth, first unceremoniously pushing her way through the circle
of men to take observations, and then reporting to the impatient
girl. The storm had passed and the night was still, except for the rush
of the river; raindrops fell now and then from the trees, glistening
like diamonds as they touched the light from the cavern's mouth. It was
all very dreary, uncanny and oppressive to poor Beverly. Now and then
she caught herself sobbing, more out of shame and humiliation than in
sadness, for had she not shot the man who stepped between her and death?
What must he think of her?
"He says yo' all 'd betteh go to baid, Miss Bev--yo' highness," said
Aunt Fanny after one of her trips.
"Oh, he does, does he?" sniffed Beverly. "I'll go to bed when I
please. Tell him so. No, no--don't do it, Aunt Fanny! Tell him I'll go
to bed when I'm sure he is quite comfortable, not before."
"But he's jes' a goat puncheh er a--"
"He's a man, if there ever was one. Don't let me hear you call him a
goat puncher again.
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