commanded.

He looked at her a moment, then opened the front of his flannel shirt
and of the undershirt, and disclosed a flesh wound where the bullet
had cut a streak across his chest. Marion bent close, and touched it
with her fingers.

"Oh!" she sighed at last, in deep relief.

Haig's reply was a laugh of which the irony did not escape her.

"Philip!" she cried reproachfully.

"Well, isn't it rather droll--and ludicrous, when you come to think of
it? First, Sunnysides' punch in my stomach. And now, with my head cut
open by a stone, and a broken leg, and two bullet-wounds--I've still
got a splendid appetite. I ought to be on exhibition somewhere!"

His sardonic humor hurt her worse than his anger; and she went quickly
to the brook to cleanse the towel again. Returning presently, she
washed the new wound, and bandaged it; then examined the splints on
the broken leg to assure herself that, as nearly as she could
determine, no serious damage had been done to it by his reckless
crawl; and finally brought his blankets, and insisted on making a sort
of bed for him. After that she cooked two slices of bacon, and on
this, with a little bread, they made their first meal of the day. And
this brought her to the next and most pressing problem.

"Will you help me think, Philip?" she asked, when they had eaten.

"About what?"

"Food."

"What's in the larder?"

She smiled at his tone, in spite of her own seriousness.

"Bacon--perhaps enough for three days, with the bread, if we don't eat
much; and chocolate for four or five breakfasts. That's all."

"And then?"

"Are there deer in those forests, do you think?"

"Very likely. This is an un-hunted country, I imagine."

"Great!" she cried.

"What do you propose to do? Whistle for them?"

She could afford to smile at that.

"Didn't you see my rifle?"

"Just now--yes. What's it for?"

"You'll see."

"Diana of Thunder Mountain, eh? Well, I'm ready to admit you're some
huntress. But deer! That's another thing."

The color flooded her cheeks.

"Cousin Seth taught me to shoot," she answered, turning her face away.
"I killed a deer on Mount Avalanche."

"But where did Cousin Seth learn to shoot? The last time he--"

"Please, Philip!"

"Well, when you've brought down your deer, what will you do with it?"

The color deserted her face at that.

"I watched him do it," she said, shuddering at the recollection.

"But you can't do that alone."

"I've got to,