Now he handed it to Bradley. "There you are," he said.
"Thanks," the ranger said. He went back to the door, and pushed the jug to
the lips of his prisoner. "Take a swig o' that." Lopez did so. His
humiliation was evident even in his back. And only a little while ago he
had been the monarch of all he surveyed! Now he was the slave of Bradley,
and must ride, hand-cuffed, to the jail a few miles away.
"He's wounded," said Lucia, going to the door. "You can't take him--like
that!" she exclaimed. She longed for Lopez to turn and look at her; yet she
longed, oddly enough, that he would not do so in the next second. It would
be as difficult for her, as for him, if they saw each other. Her heart went
out to him--this friend of Gilbert's--and hers.
Bradley hated this show of feminine weakness. "Why can't I take him like
that? Do you think I'm going to nurse an invalid like him around these
parts?" He took the canteen from one of his men. "Here," he said, handing
it back to Pell.
"That's all right. Keep it; you may need it later on," said Pell, as though
the jug were his to give away.
"Much obliged," the ranger thanked him, nothing loath. "Come on, Bloke.
Good-night.
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