fingers still holding her hair.

A terrible fear seized my heart. I again called the girl by her name,
but received no answer. I went in, and with nervous fingers lighted a
match and stooped beside her. Horror-stricken, I saw a stream of blood
threading its way across the earthern floor from her left side. I
shouted for Dr. Coues, and the surgeon hurried in. From his
instrument-case he took a small, portable lamp, and, lighting it, fell
upon his knees beside the prostrate girl.

During the following few moments, while the skilled fingers of the
firm-nerved surgeon were cutting away clothing to expose the nature of
the wound, my thoughts found time to wander to the distant family, on
its way to the fort, and to the boy sergeants there. I thought what a
sad message it would be my province to bear to them, should this dear
relative and cherished friend die by savage hands.

There was little hope that the pretty girl could live. To me she
seemed already claimed by death. She who had made our long and weary
march from Wingate to Whipple so pleasant by her vivacity and
intelligence, and had latterly brightened our occasional visits to
Skull Valley, was to die in this wretched hole.

But the _tactus eruditus_ of the young surgeon was continuing the
search for some evidence that the savage stab was not fatal, and his
mind was busy with means for preserving life, should there be a
chance. I watched his motions, and assisted now and then when asked,
and waited with strained patience for a word upon which to base a
hope.

At last the surgeon gently dropped the hand whose pulse he had long
been examining, and said: "She is alive, and that is about all that
can be said. You see, her hands, arms, and neck are badly scorched by
the dash she made through the fire at the ranch. Then this wicked
knife-thrust has paralyzed her. She has bled considerably, too, but
she lives. Press your finger upon this artery--here."

"Can she be made to live, doctor?"

"The knife has not touched a vital part, but it may have done
irreparable injury. I can tell more presently."

Nothing more was said, except in the way of direction, for some time,
the surgeon working slowly and skilfully at the wound. At last,
rearranging the girl's clothing and replacing his instruments in their
case, he said: "If I had the girl in the post-hospital, or in a
civilized dwelling, with a good nurse, I think she might recover."

"Can't we give her the proper attend