"But I might as well help you through with this!" She had again detected his doubt of her, discerned his motive in giving her an avenue of graceful escape from the unpleasant situation; she thought that he still mistrusted her stamina and her stubborn refusal to give way to any weakness set the words on her lips to cut him short. "Well, if you want to," he said, soberly, "you can keep this thing tight, while I wash this hole out an' bind it up.... I wouldn't look at it, if I was you; you ain't used to it, you know." He looked her in the eye, on that last advice, for a moment. She understood fully and, as she took the stick in her hand to keep the blood flow checked, she averted her face. For a breath he looked at the stray little hairs about the depression at the back of her neck. Then, to his work. He was gentle in cleansing the wound, but he could not touch the raw flesh without giving pain and still accomplish his end, and, on the first pressure of his fingers, the man writhed and twitched and jerked at the arm, drawing his knees up spasmodically. "I'll have to set on him, Miss," Bayard said. He did so, straddling the man's thighs and leaning to the right, close against the woman's stooping body. He grasped the cold wrist with one hand and washed the jagged hurt quickly, thoroughly. The man he held protested inarticulately and struggled to move about. Once, the towel that hid his face was thrown off and Bayard replaced it, glad that the girl's back had been turned so she did not see. It was the crude, cruel surgery of the frontier and once, towards the end, the tortured man lifted his thick, scarcely human voice in a cursing phrase and Bayard, glancing sharply at the woman, murmured, "I beg your pardon, Miss ... for him." "That's not necessary," she answered, and her whisper was thin, weak. "You ain't goin' to faint, are you?" he asked, in quick apprehension, ceasing his work to peer anxiously at her. "No.... No, but hurry, please; it is very unpleasant." He nodded his head in assent and began the bandaging, hurriedly. He made the strips of cloth secure with deft movements and then said, "There, Miss, it's all over!" She straightened and turned from him and put a hand quickly to her forehead, drew a deep breath as of exasperation and moved an uncertain step or two toward the door. "All right," she said, with a half laugh, stopping and turning about. "I was afraid ... you see! I'm not accustomed...." Bayard removed his weight from the other man and sat again on the edge of the bed. "Lots of men, men out here in this country, would have felt the same way ... only worse," he said, reassuringly. "It takes lots of sand to fuss with blood an' man meat until you get used to it. You've got the sand, Miss, an' I sure appreciate what you've done. He will, too." She turned to meet his gaze and he saw that her face was colorless and strained, but she smiled and asked, "I couldn't do less, could I?"