You
have been so brave, and I have not helped at all. I
shall do better now."
"Good," said Bridge, and stooped to raise the young
woman in his arms and deposit her upon the bed.
Then he struck another match and leaned close to ex-
amine her. The flare of the sulphur illuminated the room
and shot two rectangles of light against the outer black-
ness where the unglazed windows stared vacantly upon
the road beyond, bringing to a sudden halt a little com-
pany of muddy and bedraggled men who slipped, curs-
ing, along the slimy way.
Bridge felt the youth close beside him as he bent
above the girl upon the bed.
"Is she dead?" the lad whispered.
"No," replied Bridge, "and I doubt if she's badly
hurt." His hands ran quickly over her limbs, bending and
twisting them gently; he unbuttoned her waist, getting
the boy to strike and hold another match while he ex-
amined the victim for signs of a bullet wound.
"I can't find a scratch on her," he said at last. "She's
suffering from shock alone, as far as I can judge. Say,
she's pretty, isn't she?"
The youth drew himself rather stiffly erect. "Her fea-
tures are rather coarse, I think," he replied. There was a
peculiar quality to the tone which caused Bridge to turn
a quick look at the boy's face, just as the match flick-
ered and went out.
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