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Mavericks by William MacLeod Raine
page 60 of 342 (17%)
were scratched badly. But his mien was as jaunty, his smile as gallant,
as if he had come at the head of a conquering army.

"Good evenin', Miss Sanderson," he bowed ironically.

She looked at him, and turned away without answering. She heard Healy
curse softly and knew why. This man contrived somehow to rob him of his
triumph.

"You are none of you hurt, Brill?" the girl asked in a low voice.

"No. He fought like a wild cat, but we took him by surprise. He had only
his bare fists."

"How about him? Is he hurt?"

"I don't know--or care," the man answered sullenly.

"But he must be looked to."

"I don't know why. It ain't my fault we had to beat him up."

"I didn't say it _was_ your fault, Brill," she answered gently. "But any
one can see he has lost a lot of blood, and his wounds are full of dust.
They must be washed. I want him brought into the house. Aunt Becky and I
will look after him."

"No need of that. Slim will fix him up."

She shook her head. "No, Brill."
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