Nitschkan and
Jose carried Harry up the hill.
It was for them a slow and difficult progress, but the cabin was finally
reached and the gypsy and Jose laid him on his bed, undressed him and
examined his injuries.
Presently Mrs. Nitschkan came into the outer room, where Pearl cowered
beside the fire, her hands over her face. She caught imploringly at the
other woman's skirt. "Oh, Nitschkan, what is it? Will he live? Tell me,
tell me, quick."
"Things might be better and they might be worse, but," with rough good
will, "you ain't no call to wear mourning yet. His back ain't hurt
serious, but his left leg and his right arm are both broken and he's an
awful lot cut and bruised, especially about the back and the head. I can
set a leg myself, as good as most, and many a one have I done, but those
that I've set 'em for don't always seem to have as good use of their
limbs after as before. So if you want him as good as new again, you'd
better have a doctor."
"Yes," agreed Jose, who had come into the room. "They are bad breaks. I,
too, can set a leg or an arm, but, as you say, Nitschkan, those for whom
I have done it have usually been ungrateful enough not to use them
right."
Pearl staggered to her feet. "I will go," she said, "if you two will
only stay here and look after him, while I am gone. Oh dear Jose,
promise me that you will not leave Nitschkan alone. You can hide here
in the cabin when you see me coming with the doctor."
Jose's fingers touched the little black bag in his pocket.
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