"He-l-l-o," cried his sister as he came running. "What, four of them?""Four," he answered. "By jove, she's a wonder, isn't she. She really bowls me over.""Nonsense," said his sister in a low voice. "She's just a fine girl with a steady hand and a quick eye, and," she added as Jack turned away from her, "a true heart.""A true heart," Jack muttered to himself, "and given to that confounded bully of a German. If it had been any other man--but we have got one day at least." Resolutely he brushed away the thoughts that maddened him as he ran to Kathleen's side. Meantime, Tom and Nora had gone circling around toward the left with Sweeper ranging widely before them.
"Let's beat round this bluff," suggested Kathleen. "They may not have left the trees yet."Together they strolled away through the stubble, the girl moving with an easy grace that spoke of balanced physical strength, and with an eagerness that indicated the keen hunter's spirit. The bluff brought no result.
"That bluff promised chickens if ever a bluff did," said Kathleen in a disappointed voice. "We'll get them further down, and then again in the stubble.""Cheer-o," cried Jack. "The day is fine and we are having a ripping time, at least I am.""And I, too," cried the girl. "I love this, the open fields,--and the sport, too.""And good company," said Jack boldly.
"Yes, good company, of course," she said with a quick, friendly glance. "And you ARE good company to-day.""To-day?"
"Yes. Sometimes, you know, you are rather--I don't know what to say--but queer, as if you did not like--people, or were carrying some terrible secret," she added with a little laugh.
"Secret? I am, but not for long. I am going to tell you the secret. Do you want to hear it now?"The note of desperation in his voice startled the girl. "Oh, no,"she cried hurriedly. "Where have we got to? There are no birds in this open prairie here. We must get back to the stubble.""You are not interested in my secret, then?" said Jack. "But I am going to tell you all the same, Kathleen.""Oh, please don't," she replied in a distressed voice. "We are having such a splendid time, and besides we are after birds, aren't we? And there are the others," she added, pointing across the stubble field, "and Sweeper is on point again. Oh, let's run."She started forward quickly, her foot caught in a tangle of vetch vine and she pitched heavily forward. Jack sprang to catch her. Ashot crashed at their ears. The girl lay prone.
"My God, Kathleen, are you hurt?" said Jack.
"No, no, not a bit, but awfully scared," she panted. Then she shrieked, "Oh, oh, oh, Jack, you are wounded, you are bleeding!"He looked down at his hand. It was dripping blood. "Oh, oh," she moaned, covering her face with her hands. Then springing to her feet, she caught up his hand in hers.
"It is nothing at all," he said. "I feel nothing. Only a bit of skin. See," he cried, lifting his arm up. "There's nothing to it.
No broken bones."
"Let me see, Jack--Mr. Romayne," she said with white lips.
"Say 'Jack,'" he begged.
"Let me take off your coat--Jack, then. I know a little about this. I have done something at it in Winnipeg."Together they removed the coat. The shirt sleeve was hanging in a tangled, bloody mass from the arm.
"Awful!" groaned Kathleen. "Sit down."
"Oh, nonsense, it is not serious."
"Sit down, Jack, dear," she entreated, clasping her hands about his sound arm.
"Say it again," said Jack.
"Oh, Jack, won't you sit down, please?"
"Say it again," he commanded sternly.
"Oh, Jack, dear, please sit down," she cried in a pitiful voice.
He sat down, then lay back reclining on his arm. "Now your knife, Jack," she said, feeling hurriedly through his pockets.
"Here you are," he said, handing her the knife, biting his lips the while and fighting back a feeling of faintness.
Quickly slipping behind him, she whipped off her white petticoat and tore it into strips. Then cutting the bloody shirt sleeve, she laid bare the arm. The wound was superficial. The shot had torn a wide gash little deeper than the skin from wrist to shoulder, with here and there a bite into the flesh. Swiftly, deftly, with fingers that never fumbled, she bandaged the arm, putting in little pads where the blood seemed to be pumping freely.
"That's fine," said Jack. "You are a brick, Kathleen. I think--Iwill--just lie down--a bit. I feel--rather rotten." As he spoke he caught hold of her arm to steady himself. She caught him in her arms and eased him down upon the stubble. With eyes closed and a face that looked like death he lay quite still.
