“Just a pin prick,” said Thurstane.

Clara began to get out of the wagon, with the purpose of going to him, her eyes staring and her face pale.

“Don’t!” he protested, motioning her back.  “It is nothing.”

And, although the lacerated arm hurt him and was not easy to manage, he raised it over his head to show that the damage was trifling.

“Do get in here and let us take care of you,” begged Clara.

“Certainly!” echoed Aunt Maria, who was a compassionate woman at heart, and who only lacked somewhat in quickness of sympathy, perhaps by reason of her strong-minded notions.

“I will when I need it,” said Ralph, flattered and gratified.  “The arm will do without dressing till we reach camp.  There are other wounded.  Everybody has fought.  Mr. Coronado here has done deeds worthy of his ancestors.”

“Ah, Mr. Coronado!” smiled Aunt Maria, delighted that her favorite had distinguished himself.

“Captain Glover, what’s the matter with your nose?” was the lady’s next outcry.

“Wal, it’s been bored,” replied Glover, tenderly fingering his sore proboscis.  “It’s been, so to speak, eyelet-holed.  I’m glad I hadn’t but one.  The more noses a feller kerries in battle, the wuss for him.  I hope the darned rip’ll heal up.  I’ve no ’casion to hev a line rove through it ‘n’ be towed, that I know of.”

“How did it feel when it went through?” asked Aunt Maria, full of curiosity and awe.

“Felt’s though I’d got the dreadfullest influenzee thet ever snorted.  Twitched ‘n’ tickled like all possessed.”

“Was it an arrow?” inquired the still unsatisfied lady.

“Reckon ’twas.  Never see it.  But it kinder whished, ‘n’ I felt the feathers.  Darn ’em!  When I felt the feathers, tell ye I was ’bout half scairt.  Hed ’n idee ‘f th’ angel ’f death, ‘n’ so on.”

Of course Aunt Maria and Clara wanted to do much nursing immediately; but there were no conveniences and there was no time; and so benevolence was postponed.

“So you are hurt?” said Thurstane to Texas Smith, noticing his torn and bloody shirt.

“It’s jest a scrape,” grunted the bushwhacker.  “Mought’a’been worse.”

“It was bad generalship trying to save you.  We nearly paid high for it.”

“That’s so.  Cost four greasers, as ’twas.  Well, I’m worth four greasers.”

“You’re a devil of a fighter,” continued the Lieutenant, surveying the ferocious face and sullen air of the cutthroat with a soldier’s admiration for whatever expresses pugnacity.

“Bet yer pile on it,” returned Texas, calmly conscious of his character.  “So be you.”

The savage black eyes and the imperious blue ones stared into each other without the least flinching and with something like friendliness.

Coronado rode up to the pair and asked, “Is that boy alive yet?”

“It’s about time for him to flop round,” replied Texas indifferently.  “Reckon you’ll find him in the off hind wagon.  I shoved him in thar.”