"I know you didn't"--peevishly. "Oh," she added as he took the boot in hand again, this time giving it a slight twist; "men are _such_ awkward creatures!" "Why, I reckon they are, ma'am. That is, one, in particular. There's times when I can't get my own boots on." He grinned, and she looked icily at him. "Get hold of it just above the ankle, please," she instructed evenly and drew the hem of her skirt tightly. "There!" she added as he seized the limb gingerly, "now pull!" He did as he had been bidden. She shrieked in agony and jerked the foot away, and he stood up, his face reflecting some of the pain and misery that shone in hers. "It's awful, ma'am," he sympathized. "Over at the Diamond H, one of the boys got his leg broke, last year, ridin' an outlaw, or tryin' to ride him, which ain't quite the same thing--an' we had to get his boot off before we could set the break. Why, ma'am; we had to set on his head to keep him from scarin' all the cattle off the range, with his screechin'." She looked at him with eyes that told him plainly that no one was going to sit on _her_ head--and that she would "screech" if she chose. And then she spoke to him with bitter sarcasm: "Perhaps if you _tried_ to do something, instead of standing there, telling me something that happened _ages_ ago, I wouldn't have to sit here and endure this awful m-m-misery!" The break in her voice brought him on his knees at her side. "Why, I reckon it _must_ hurt like the devil, ma'am." He looked around helplessly. "Haven't you got something that you might take it off with?" she demanded tearfully. "Haven't you got a knife?" He reddened guiltily. "I clean forgot it ma'am." He laughed with embarrassment. "I expect I'd never do for a doctor, ma'am; I'm so excited an' forgetful. An' I recollect, now that you mention it, that we had to cut Hiller's boot off. That was the man I was tellin' you about. He--" "Oh, dear," she said with heavy resignation, "I suppose you simply _must_ talk! Do you _like_ to see me suffer?" "Why, shucks, I feel awful sorry for you, ma'am. I'll sure hurry." While he had been speaking he had drawn out his knife, and with as much delicacy as the circumstances would permit, he accomplished the destruction of the boot. Then, after many admonitions for him to be careful, and numerous sharp intakings of her breath, the boot was withdrawn, showing her stockinged foot, puffed to abnormal proportions. She looked at it askance. "Do you think it is b-broken?" she asked him, dreading. He grasped it tenderly, discovered that the ankle moved freely, and after pressing it in several places, looked up at her. "I don't think it's broke, ma'am. It's a bad sprain though, I reckon. I reckon it ought to be rubbed--so's to bring back the blood that couldn't get in while the boot was on."