Then he struck another match and leaned close to ex-amine her.The flare of the sulphur illuminated the room and shot two rectangles of light against the outer black-ness where the unglazed windows stared vacantly upon the road beyond, bringing to a sudden halt a little com-pany of muddy and bedraggled men who slipped, curs-ing, along the slimy way.
Bridge felt the youth close beside him as he bent above the girl upon the bed.
"Is she dead?" the lad whispered.
"No," replied Bridge, "and I doubt if she's badly hurt." His hands ran quickly over her limbs, bending and twisting them gently; be unbuttoned her waist, getting the boy to strike and hold another match while he ex-amined the victim for signs of a bullet wound.
"I can't find a scratch on her," be said at last."She's suffering from shock alone, as far as I can judge.Say, she's pretty, isn't she?"The youth drew himself rather stiffly erect."Her fea-tures are rather coarse, I think," he replied.There was a peculiar quality to the tone which caused Bridge to turn a quick look at the boy's face, just as the match flick-ered and went out.The darkness hid the expression upon Bridge's face, but his conviction that the girl was pretty was unaltered.The light of the match had re-vealed an oval face surrounded by dark, dishevelled tresses, red, full lips, and large, dark eyes.
Further discussion of the young woman was discour-aged by a repetition of the clanking of the chain with-out.Now it was receding along the hallway toward the stairs and presently, to the infinite relief of The Os-kaloosa Kid, the two heard it descending to the lower floor.
"What was it, do you think?" asked the boy, his voice still trembling upon the verge of hysteria.
"I don't know," replied Bridge."I've never been a be-liever in ghosts and I'm not now; but I'll admit that it takes a whole lot of--"He did not finish the sentence for a moan from the bed diverted his attention to the injured girl, toward whom he now turned.As they listened for a repetition of the sound there came another--that of the creaking of the old bed slats as the girl moved upon the mildewed mattress.Dimly, through the darkness, Bridge saw that the victim of the recent murderous assault was attempt-ing to sit up.He moved closer and leaned above her.
"I wouldn't exert myself," he said."You've just suf-fered an accident, and it's better that you remain quiet.""Who are you?" asked the girl, a note of suppressed terror in her voice."You are not--?""I am no one you know," replied Bridge."My friend and I chanced to be near when you fell from the car--"with that innate refinement which always belied his vo-cation and his rags Bridge chose not to embarrass the girl by a too intimate knowledge of the thing which had befallen her, preferring to leave to her own volition the ****** of any explanation she saw fit, or of none --"and we carried you in here out of the storm."The girl was silent for a moment."Where is 'here'?"she asked presently."They drove so fast and it was so dark that I had no idea where we were, though I know that we left the turnpike.""We are at the old Squibbs place," replied the man.
He could see that the girl was running one hand gin-gerly over her head and face, so that her next question did not surprise him.
"Am I badly wounded?" she asked."Do you think that I am going to die?" The tremor in her voice was pathetic --it was the voice of a frightened and wondering child.
Bridge heard the boy behind him move impulsively for-ward and saw him kneel on the bed beside the girl.
"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.
Again she sat up, and when she spoke there was no tremor in her voice.
"I may die," she said."I want to die.I do not see how I can go on living after last night; but if I do die I want my father to know that I had nothing to do with it and that they tried to kill me because I wouldn't promise to keep still.It was the little one who murdered him--the one they called 'Jimmie' and 'The Oskaloosa Kid.' The big one drove the car--his name was 'Terry.' After they killed him I tried to jump out--I had been sitting in front with Terry--and then they dragged me over into the tonneau and later--the Oskaloosa Kid tried to kill me too, and threw me out."Bridge heard the boy at his side gulp.The girl went on.
