"You are not badly hurt," volunteered The Oskaloosa
Kid. "Bridge couldn't find a mark on you--the bullet
must have missed you."
"He was holding me over the edge of the car when
he fired." The girl's voice reflected the physical shudder
which ran through her frame at the recollection. "Then
he threw me out almost simultaneously. I suppose he
thought that he could not miss at such close range."
For a time she was silent again, sitting stiffly erect.
Bridge could feel rather than see wide, tense eyes star-
ing out through the darkness upon scenes, horrible per-
haps, that were invisible to him and the Kid.
Suddenly the girl turned and threw herself face down-
ward upon the bed. "O, God!" she moaned. "Father!
Father! It will kill you--no one will believe me--they
will think that I am bad. I didn't do it! I didn't do it!
I've been a silly little fool; but I have never been a bad
girl--and---and--I had nothing to do with that awful
thing that happened to-night."
Bridge and the boy realized that she was not talking
to them--that for the moment she had lost sight of their
presence--she was talking to that father whose heart
would be breaking with the breaking of the new day,
trying to convince him that his little girl had done no
wrong.
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