She sat down on the edge of the bed, and without a word placed the bowl
in her lap and her arm round him. Then neither spoke as she filled the
spoon and held it to his lips. She felt him trying to steady his arms
to keep his weight from her.

"It's really good," he said, as she filled the spoon the second time,
"I had no idea I was so hungry; you say you made it?"

"Yes; there now, I'll have to wipe your chin; you ought not to talk
when you are eating."

For several minutes neither spoke. He finished the bowl of gruel and
lay down again.

"I feel as mean as a dog," he said, as she rose and drew the cover over
him; "here I am being nursed by the very fellow's sweetheart I tried my
level best to do up."

She turned and placed the bowl on the table, and then went to the fire.

"I heard you were his girl last night," he went on. "Well, I'm glad I
didn't kill him. I wouldn't have tried in anything but self-defence,
for even if he did use a gun and knife, when I had none, he's got
bulldog pluck, and plenty of it. Do you know, I felt like mashing the
head of that sheriff for beating him like he did."

She sat down before the fire, but soon rose again. "If I stay here,"
she said, abruptly, and rather sharply, "you'll keep talking, and not
sleep at all. I'm going into the next room--the parlor. If you want
anything, call me and I'll come."