The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. ” “Thanks to me,” he repeated, puzzled. He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry glances of his leader. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. It made her hungry.
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