Page:Lefty o' the Bush.djvu/218

 "Let me help," she urged steadily.

"Yuh—yuh don't think I—I'll bl-e-bleed ter death, do ye?" sobbed Jimmy.

"Hardly as bad as that, old chap," smiled Locke, as he wound the handkerchief round the foot and drew it tight. "There's no danger at all. We'll have you fixed up all right. It doesn't hurt much, does it?"

"Aw, I don't care a rap fer ther hurtin', but it bled so like thunder that it got my goat," was the reply.

Janet, watching, saw Tom bring two corners of the folded handkerchief together to tie them. On one of those corners her eyes beheld some initials, plainly and distinctly worked; so plain and distinct were they that there could be no possible mistake as to what they were. She stared at them, wondering, for the letters were "P. H."

"There you are, old man," said Locke cheerfully, when he had knotted the ends of the handkerchief securely. "Never mind if the blood does come through; the doctor will stop that pretty quick. Now, come on, and I'll take you to him pickapack."

He lifted the little fellow lightly, and swung him to his back. Janet rose, and followed, the children, chattering, trailing after.