"Yes."

"Toughest customer I ever tackled." He laughed, dryly.

She made no reply. She went to the fire and began stirring the
contents of a three-legged pot on the coals. To see her better, he
turned over on his side. The bed slats creaked.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, running to him, "you'll break the stitches, and
bleed again. Don't move that way."

He raised the blanket and looked down at his wound.

"I reckon they are holding all right, though I _did_ feel a little
twinge."

"You have not had any dinner or supper," she went on. "Dr. Lash said
if you wanted anything I might give you some gruel and milk. I've made
it, and it is keeping warm at the fire. Will you take some?"

"No, I thank you; I can wait till breakfast. Then I'll set up at the
table and eat a square meal; somehow, I'm not hungry. Wambush objected
mightily to being jailed, didn't he?"

"You ought not to wait till breakfast," she said, looking at the fire;
"you'd better let me give you some of this gruel."

"All right; you are the doctor."