Aurora paled to her eyes, her lips tightened to thin purple lines across
her white teeth, and she fought with Mary for a moment, seeking to make
her way into the tent; but Mrs. Kyley was a powerful woman, and in her
grasp, when she was really determined, Aurora was as a mere child.
'For God's sake, let me see him!' said the young woman.
'You mustn't be a fool, Aurora,' the washerwoman said firmly. 'I can't
let you go blundering in on to a sick man--and this one is a very sick
man.'
'He's dying!'
'No, no; he'll not die easily--he's tough stuff; but he's got two ugly
wounds, and we'll have to handle him fine and gently. Pull yourself up,
Aurora dear.' She wound her strong arms fondly about the girl and kissed
her cheek, and, with a restraining arm still about her, led her into the
tent.
Jim Done lay on Mary Kyley's comfortable white bed. His face was ghastly.
Aurora uttered a little cry of pain and terror at the sight of him. There
was blood upon the sheets and the pillows, and Wat Ryder, working in his
shirt-sleeves, was deftly closing a gaping scalp wound with horsehair
stitches.
Ryder had carried Jim straight to Kyley's tent, and Mrs. Ben received the
wounded man with open arms.
'We may be followed,' he said. 'I've brought him out of the thick of it.
Keep watch, please, and give me warning if you see anything of the
troopers. May I use your bed?'
'My bed! Yes, and my blood and bones if they're any good to you.'
'Your eyes can do me better service. I'm a done man if the police lay a
hand on me, and Jim here needs attention.'
'Then, go to work with an easy mind.'
So Mary kept watch while Ryder worked over Jim with the quickness and
decision of a surgeon. It was not the first time by many that he had
dealt with ugly wounds.
'Don't neglect the watch,' he said, a minute after Aurora's entrance.
Mary looked at Aurora. The girl was now apparently quite composed; she
had cast aside the shawl, and was hastily tying on an apron. So Mrs.
Kyley slipped out again, quite reassured.
'It would be better, perhaps, if I held his head,' said Aurora.
'Yes,' answered Ryder shortly.
She seated herself on the bed, and took Done's head between her hands,
raising it, and Ryder continued his work rapidly. No further words were
spoken till the scalp wound was stitched, and Aurora, gazing into the
seemingly lifeless face of the patient, had a strange feeling of
insensibility, as if all her emotions were numbed for the time. There was
not a tremor in her fingers; she felt that under the influence that
possessed her she could have suffered any trial without a cry.
'Now hunt up anything that will do for bandages,' said the man.
She lowered Jim's head gently to the pillow again, and made haste to
obey, while Ryder examined the bullet-wound. He showed her how to tear
the material, and then bandaged the patient's head.
'I was assistant in a hospital for a time,' he said, in explanation of
his masterly work, but he did not say that it was a gaol hospital in
which he had gathered his experience.
Aurora watched the man's hands. They were extraordinary hands, long and
very narrow--wonderfully capable they seemed. They inspired her with
complete faith. He was feeling for the ball in Jim's shoulder. She helped
him to turn the young man upon his face, and the slim, dexterous fingers
probed the flesh above the shoulder-blades.
'Ah!' he said, with a sigh of relief; and taking his knife, he cut
boldly, and, behold--the bullet! It was like a feat of legerdemain. This
cut was washed with fluid from a small bottle on the table, smartly
stitched, and then, after the wound in front had been treated, the
shoulder was firmly bandaged, and Ryder seemed satisfied. He was none too
soon, for at that moment Mary Kyley darted in.
'Half a dozen troopers are coming along the hill,' she said.
'Bluff them!' said Ryder quickly. 'If they insist on searching, swear the
boy was hurt at a blast. Cover his shoulders. Show no surprise in any
alteration in my appearance. I am a customer.' 'He snatched his coat and
revolver, and sprang into the next tent.'
At that moment the sound of horses' hoofs was heard on the gravel, and a
voice cried 'Halt!' Mrs. Kyley's broad figure filled the doorway.
'How many of those blackguard rebels are you hiding in your tent, Mother
Kyley?' said the sergeant.
'Is that you, Sergeant Wallis? Was there ever so attentive an admirer?
You'd follow me to the world's end for the love you have of me. I've a
dozen rebels inside. Come and be introduced.'
A tall bearded digger with a loaf of bread under his arm had slouched
from the business tent, and stood watching the scene with incurious eyes.
'Who the devil are you, and where did you spend last night, my man?' said
the trooper.
'I'm a party by the name of Smith, Ephraim Smith--called Eph. I spent
last night in my bunk, bein' too damn drunk to join the boys down there,
worse luck!'
'Your license, Mr. Ephraim Smith.'
The license was handed up, and found correct. 'You had too much
discretion to burn your license with the rest of the seditious
blackguards, at any rate, Mr. Smith.'