ed it on without her knowing I
had loaned it to her for a covering. She opened her eyes and watched me a
few moments without comprehending where she was. With a little cry she
jumped to her feet and roundly unbraided me for not calling her to help in
the work.

I pointed out a spring, and by the time she was ready to eat the hot mush
and cold turkey, the fire was out and we were ready to march. Our lack of
salt was all that prevented the meal from being very appetizing. We were
not inclined to quarrel with our good fortune, however, but ate enough to
last us the day. As the first rays touched the tops of the trees we
resumed the journey.

We covered a good ten miles when we had our first serious mishap since
leaving the Indian village. Patricia had insisted she be allowed to take
the lead where the blazed trees made the trace easy to follow. I humored
her, for she kept within a rod of me. We struck into a bottom and had to
pick our way through a stretch of cane.

Afraid she might stumble on to a bear and be sadly frightened, I called on
her to wait for me. But she discovered a blaze on a sycamore beyond the
cane and hurried forward. Half-way through the cane she slipped on a wet
root and fell on her side. Ordinarily the accident would not have been
serious, but the moment I saw the expression of pain driving her face
white I knew she was hurt. I dropped the kettle and picked her up. She
winced and groaned and said it was her arm. I carried her to the high
ground and made her sit while I examined her hurt. I expected to find the
bone broken. I was happily disappointed, and yet she was hurt grievously
enough. A section of cane had penetrated the upper arm near the shoulder,
making a nasty wound. As the cane had broken off in the flesh it was
necessary for me to play the surgeon. Using a pair of bullet-molds I
managed to secure a grip on the ugly splinter and pull it out. She gave a
little yelp, but did not move.

"The worst is over," I told her. "Now we must dress it."

Returning and securing the kettle, I dipped water from a spring and
lighted a fire and hung the kettle to boil. Then I hunted for Indian
medicine. I soon found it, the bark of a linn or bee-tree root. This I
pounded and bruised with the butt of my rifle and threw it into the kettle
to boil. Patricia remained very patient and quiet, her eyes following my
every move.

"You're as useful as a housewife, Basdel," she remarked. "More useful than
most wome