"Oh, it's all right now," calmly went on Orme, again stooping. "I
thought you might be interested. It's all over now but pulling out the
head."
I felt again a shiver run through the limbs of the girl. Perhaps she
turned away her head, I do not know. I felt Orme's fingers spreading
widely the sides of the wound along the neck, and the boring of the big
headed bullet molds as they went down after a grip, their impact
softened by the finger extended along the blade knife.
The throbbing artery whose location this man knew so well was protected.
Gently feeling down, the tips of the mold got their grip at last, and an
instant later I felt release from a certain stiff pressure which I had
experienced in my neck. Relief came, then a dizziness and much pain. A
hand patted me twice on the back of the neck.
"All right, my man," said Orme. "All over; and jolly well done, too, if
I do say it myself!"
Belknap put his arm about me and helped me to sit up. I saw Orme holding
out the stained arrow head, long and thin, in his fingers.
"Would you like it?" he said.
"Yes," said I, grinning. And I confess I have it now somewhere about my
house. I doubt if few souvenirs exist to remind one of a scene exactly
similar.
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