was dark, and I couldn't see him, and
I could only hear--" she broke down, shuddering and weeping.

While she spoke the priest had been unfastening Paul's collar and was
trying to find the wound. The bosom of his shirt was already darkly dyed
with blood.

"He is alive; his heart is still beating," said Father Orin, huskily.

This daring, gifted young doctor had come to be like his own son in
their work together for the suffering. He turned back his coat and found
the deep knife-wound in his shoulder, and set about stanching the flow
of blood with the simple knowledge of surgery that the life of the
wilderness taught to all. But it was Ruth who thought of Paul's medical
case which always hung on his saddle. The horse was gone, but the case
was lying not far away, on the ground where it had fallen, and there
were bandages and lint in it, as she hoped there would be. But when they
had done all that they could, he still lay motionless and barely
breathing. She dropped down beside him in fresh alarm, and again took
his head on her lap. Father Orin stood up, looking helplessly through
the moonlight and murmuring something about getting the doctor back to
his cabin.

"We will take him to Cedar House," she said. "There is no one to nurse
him in his own cabin. Oh!" with a smothered scream. "They are coming
back!"

She could not suppress that one cry of fright which burst from her lips.
But there was only one, she stilled the others and tried at once to
control the trembling of her knees under his head. The dove will sit
still when a cruel hand comes close to her nest; but no living creature
has the courage of the gentlest woman when the man she loves is
helpless--through no lack of strength or courage in himself--and in
danger. The things which timid women have done then, stand among the
bravest that have ever been set down to the credit of humanity.
Believing that some hideous, unknown peril was sweeping upon them, this
mere slip of a girl now bent quietly over the prone head and spoke close
to the deaf ear without thinking whether or not it could hear.

"There, dear heart, there! Never mind. All is well. Lie still, or your
wound will bleed. We are here, Father Orin and I. We will take care of
you. Only lie still."

Two horsemen were now in sight and they were spurring straight toward
Anvil Rock. While they were yet a long way off, Ruth felt, rather than
saw, that one of them was David. She told the priest who it was,