"You--easy--"
Barbara looked at Dusty cynically. "It's your show, Spaceman Officer."
She laughed hysterically again. "Dusty Britton Rides Again!"
Dusty slapped her across the face to shock her out of it. Then he bent
down to look at Scyth. The compress was soaked with red blood, but it
was not overflowing. Dusty touched it gently and looked up at Scyth's
face. "Hurt?" he asked.
"Can' tell. Hur' all over."
"Gonna hurt more, Scyth. C'mon, make a break."
Dusty put his arm under the Marandanian's shoulder and slowly lifted
him to a sitting position. The man groaned and the compress broke out
in a new flood that ran wet for a moment and then subsided in the
stickiness of clot.
Dusty lifted Scyth as gently as he could, and with Barbara opening
doors, he carried Scyth to his big car.
"Why not take his?" she asked.
"Like mine better," he said with a shake of his head at the
rental-agency model Scyth had come in.
Barbara found blankets from the trunk and made a soft cushion for Scyth.
"You take care of him and I'll drive," said Dusty.