The Silent Battle. Gibbs George
his appearance reassured her, for Gallatin had taken off his hat, and his eyes, no longer darkly mysterious in shadow, were looking at her very kindly.
“I want to try and help you, if I can,” he was saying gently. “I’m about to make a camp over here, and if you’ll join me–”
Something in the tones of his voice and in his manner of expressing himself, caused her to sit suddenly up and examine him more minutely. When she had done so, her hands made two graceful gestures—one toward her disarranged hair and the other toward her disarranged skirt. Gallatin would have laughed at this instinctive manifestation of the eternal feminine, which even in direst woe could not altogether be forgotten, but instead he only smiled, for after all she looked so childishly forlorn and unhappy.
“I’m not really going to eat you, you know,” he said again, smiling.
“I—I’m glad,” she stammered with a queer little smile. “I didn’t know what you were. I’m afraid I—I’ve been very much frightened.”
“You were lost, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” She struggled to her knees and then sank back again.
“Well, there’s really nothing to be frightened about. It’s almost too late to try to find your friends to-night, but if you’ll come with me I’ll do my best to make you comfortable.”
He had risen and offered her his hand, but when she tried to rise she winced with pain.
“I—I’m afraid I can’t,” she said. “I think I—I’ve twisted my ankle.”
“Oh, that’s awkward,” in concern. “Does it hurt you very much?”
“I—I think it does. I can’t seem to use it at all.” She moved her foot and her face grew white with the pain of it.
Gallatin looked around him vaguely, as though in expectation that Joe Keegón or somebody else might miraculously appear to help him, and then for the first time since he had seen her, was alive again to the rigors of his own predicament.
“I’m awfully sorry,” he stammered helplessly. “Don’t you think you can stand on it?”
He offered her his hand and shoulder and she bravely tried to rise, but the effort cost her pain and with a little cry she sank back in the leaves, her face buried in her arms. She seemed so small, so helpless that his heart was filled with a very genuine pity. She was not crying now, but the hand which held her moist handkerchief was so tightly clenched that her knuckles were outlined in white against the tan. He watched her a moment in silence, his mind working rapidly.
“Come,” he said at last in quick cheerful notes of decision. “This won’t do at all. We’ve got to get out of here. You must take that shoe off. Then we’ll get you over yonder and you can bathe it in the stream. Try and get your gaiter off, too, won’t you?”
His peremptory accents startled her a little, but she sat up obediently while he supported her shoulders, and wincing again as she moved, at last undid her legging. Gallatin then drew his hasp-knife and carefully slit the laces of her shoe from top to bottom, succeeding in getting it safely off.
“Your ankle is swelling,” he said. “You must bathe it at once.”
She looked around helplessly.
“Where?”
“At the stream. I’m going to carry you there.”
“You couldn’t. Is it far?”
“No. Only a hundred yards or so. Come along.”
He bent over to silence her protests and lifted her by the armpits. Then while she supported herself for a moment upright, lifted her in his arms and made his way up the slope.
Marvelous is the recuperative power of the muscular system! Ten minutes ago Gallatin had been, to all intents and purposes of practical utility, at the point of exhaustion. Now, without heart-breaking effort, he found it possible to carry a burden of one hundred and thirty pounds a considerable distance through rough timber without mishap! His muscles ached no more than they had done before, and the only thing he could think of just then was that she was absurdly slender to weigh so much. One of her arms encircled his shoulders and the fingers of one small brown hand clutched tightly at the collar of his shirt. Her eyes peered before her into the brush, and her face was almost hidden by the tangled mass of her hair. But into the pale cheek which was just visible, a gentle color was rising which matched the rosy glow that was spreading over the heavens.
“I’m afraid I—I’m awfully heavy,” she said, as he made his way around the fallen giant over which a short while ago they had both clambered. “Don’t you think I had better get down for a moment?”
“Oh, no,” he panted. “Not at all. It—it isn’t far now. I’m afraid you’d hurt your foot. Does it—does it pain you so much now?”
“N-o, I think not,” she murmured bravely. “But I’m afraid you’re dreadfully tired.”
“N-not at all,” he stammered. “We’ll be there soon now.”
When he came to the spot he had marked for his camp, he bore to the right and in a moment they had reached the stream which gushed musically among the boulders, half hidden in the underbrush. It was not until he had carefully chosen a place for her that he consented to put her on the ground. Then with a knee on the bank and a foot in the stream, he lowered her gently to a mossy bank within reach of the water.
“You’re very kind,” she whispered, her cheeks flaming as she looked up at him. “I’m awfully sorry.”
“Nothing of the sort,” he laughed. “I’d have let you carry me—if you could.” And then, with the hurried air of a man who has much to do: “You take off your stocking and dangle your foot in the water. Wiggle your toes if you can and then try to rub the blood into your ankle. I’m going to build a fire and cook some fish. Are you hungry?”
“I don’t know. I—I think I am.”
“Good!” he said smiling pleasantly. “We’ll have supper in a minute.”
He was turning to go, when she questioned: “You spoke of a camp. Is—is it near here?”
“N-o. It isn’t,” he hesitated, “but it soon will be.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
He laughed. “Well, you see, the fact of the matter is, I’m lost, too. I don’t think it’s anything to be very much frightened about, though. I left my guide early this morning at the fork of two streams a pretty long distance from here. I’ve been walking hard all day. I fished up one of the streams for half of the day and then cut across through the forest where I thought I would find it again. I found a stream but it seems it wasn’t the same one, for after I had gone down it for an hour or so I didn’t seem to get anywhere. Then I plunged around hunting and at last had to give it up.”
“Don’t you think you could find it again?”
“Oh, I think so,” confidently. “But not to-night. I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with what I can offer you.”
“Of course—and I’m very grateful—but I’m sorry to be such a burden to you.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense.” He turned away abruptly and made his way up the bank. “I’m right here in the trees and I can hear you. So if I can help you I want you to call.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, “I will.”
II
BABES IN THE WOODS
Gallatin’s responsibilities to his Creator had been multiplied by two.
Less than an hour ago he had dropped his rod and creel more than half convinced that it didn’t matter to him or to anybody else whether he got back to Joe Keegón or not. Now, he suddenly found himself hustling busily in the underbrush, newly alive to the exigencies of the occasion, surprised even at the fact that he could take so