places, and a long tear had ripped one sleeve from
shoulder seam to elbow. "Why do you keep sitting
there? Are you hurt?"
"Go away!" I yelled, flipping my head so he
couldn't see my mud-smeared face. "No, I am not
hurt! I don't need to be rescued! I don't need you! I
don't need anybody!"
Without replying he stepped into the wet ditch
and tried to feel my legs for broken bones. I tried to
slap him away, and yet he managed to pick me up
after three attempts. "Now, be serious, Heaven. Tell
me if you hurt anywhere."
"No! Just put me down!"
"You're lucky you are still alive. If it had been
hard ground instead of water and a soft muddy stream
bottom, you might very well be seriously injured." "I can walk. Please put me on my feet." "All right, if that's what you want," and obeying
my command, he tentatively stood me up. I cried out
from the hot pain that shot through my left ankle.
Instantly he seized me up in his arms again. "We've
got to hurry. No time to play games. I had to dismount
to follow the trail you made. No doubt trom the looks
of that swelling ankle, you have sprained it." "That doesn't make me crippled! I can still
walk. Many a time I've walked seven miles to
Winnerrow with something hurting more than that
ankle!"
Another amused grin quirked his lips. "Sure
you have, a hurting stomach, not a sprained ankle." "What do you know about it?"
"Only what you've told me. Now stop
struggling and behave yourself. If I don't find my
horse in short order, both of us are going to be caught