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Her eye, at that, went to the fire, now brilliantly painting the trail, to the pillowed figure upon the moss, with the sweater-roll in the hollow of the injured knee. "But, land sakes! I needn't ha' been in such a mad hurry getting here, after all giving my skin to make ear-laps for the old Man Killer!" she cried, holding up two raw palms, flayed by indiscriminate climbing.
Pain released something in that sufferer too, a fire that was not all wild-fire! For suddenly he dragged Una's green sweater-roll from under his head and thrust it towards her with an imperious: "Put it on, child!"
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