"Don't forget."

With that, he was gone. Yet a moment, and they heard the clatter of his
horse's hoofs.

"Why did you tell him?" Phyllis asked. "It will only anger them. Now
they will seek vengeance on you."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Search me. Perhaps I wanted to prove to
myself that a man may be a mean bully, and not all coyote. Perhaps I
wanted to get under his hide. Who knows?"

She knew, in part. He had treated her abominably, and wanted blindly to
pay for it in the first way that came to his mind. Half savage as he
sometimes was, that way had been to stand up to personal punishment, to
invite retaliation from his enemies.

"You must have your face looked to. Shall I call Josephine?"

"No," he answered harshly.

"I think I will. We can help it, I'm sure."

That "we" saved the day. He let her call the Mexican woman, and order
warm water, towels, dressings, and adhesive plaster. It seemed to him
more than a fancy that there was healing in the cool, soft fingers which
washed his face and adjusted the bandages. His eyes, usually so hard,
held now the dumb hunger one sees in those of a faithful dog. They
searched hers for something which he knew he would never find in them.