After thoroughly washing the long linen strips so as to be sure that the starch was out of them she filled Ethel’s hat with water and hurried back.

“Here, dearie,” she said, “Let me wash your face.  I brought the water in your hat,” and with the balance of her skirt she washed the girl’s face and then proceeded to tear open the sleeve, cleansing the wound with a fresh hatful of water.  She did it carefully and thoroughly, with the skill of a surgeon.  It was an ugly wound, but she bound the arm firmly with the strips.

“There now!  So much for that,” ejaculated Nora, rising and pushing back from her brow one curly lock that always insisted upon falling over her eyes.

“Oh, Honora! you are an angel,” exclaimed Ethel, “and I have always been so unfriendly.”

Nora appeared not to hear but went on: 

“Can you stand, my dear?” she asked.

“No,” sobbed the girl, “I guess my leg must be broken.  However are we to reach Camp?  Oh, Nora, for God’s sake don’t leave me.  I should die of fright were you to do so, and the men may be hiding near even now.  Don’t go, I beseech.  I know I am selfish and I’ve been unkind to you, but forgive me, Nora.  I’ll be your slave after this if only you’ll stay with me.  Don’t go for help.  Just stay here until I die,” and the girl fell to sobbing.

“I’m cold,” she murmured—­“I’m so chilly, Nora,” and she shivered.

Quickly Nora removed her heavy white sweater that she had just put on, and raising Ethel to a sitting posture she first put in her good arm.  Then she fastened the sweater about the girl’s neck.

“There, dear, that will keep you warm, and I’ll not be after leaving you—­never fear—­not if we stay together all night in these woods.  But I must think how we can manage with you and your injuries.  Faith it’s raining and you may catch your death.”

“And I have your sweater on, Nora!” exclaimed Ethel.  “Oh, how selfish I am.”

“Keep still,” replied Nora.  “I couldn’t wear it now, for I’m going to try and carry you home.”

For a moment Nora gazed tentatively at Ethel.  Then suddenly there appeared a dawn of hope in her strong honest face.

“Miss Ethel, listen,” she began.  “When a child did ye ever play pig-a-back?  Perhaps I might get you home that way.”

“Yes, Nora.  Papa always carried me up to bed that way,” and the girl burst into tears.

“Ye mustn’t cry,” said Nora.  “If ye do I shan’t be able to carry ye.  Now wipe your pretty eyes and help me carry ye as Papa used to.  Forget your pain and try to be patient, for, Ethel, we must reach camp some way.  Doubtless they are searching for us even now, but this is a side road far from the main one.  They’ll never think to look here, nor could they hear us were we of call.  And then those men you spoke of.  They may be near.  There’s no time to lose.  Get on my back and cling for dear life.”

Nora had great sense.  She realized that until she had thoroughly frightened Ethel she would not exert herself and forget her pain.  Then, too, if what she had told her were true, the men might really be lying in wait to capture the supposed wealthy New York girl.