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the girl, he gave a guilty start
Her tilted eyes blazed with anger. His lips quirked at
the corners. The ugly little thing had pride. "I'm sorry
you heard that, girl," he apologized.
    When the girl made no answer but to turn her head
away, he continued, "I'm gonna put you on my horse
now and take you home."
    Gingerly he slid his hands beneath her knees and
shoulders. She started to struggle, and he snapped impatiently, "Lay still or I'll clip you one."
    He stood up and was surprised at how heavy she
was. She looked so thin in her dirty rags. He began to
move toward the mount, when a copperhead, thick as
his wrist, sailed through the air toward him. He felt its
poisonous fangs fasten into his thigh, then saw it drop
to the ground and slither away.

    He stood poised a moment, the girl still in his arms.
As from a great distance he heard her whisper despairingly, "Oh, no."
    She slipped from his arms as he sank slowly to the
ground

     

Gradually Matt became aware of voices around him.
Slowly and painfully he eased back to consciousness.
He started to open his eyes, then shut them tightly
against the light of a candle near his head.
    A voice, grave and cracked, announced quietly,
"He's comin' around."
    He carefully opened his eyes again and stared into a
wrinkled, leathery face. Wisps of gray-streaked hair
hung down on either sunken cheek. He shrank back in
the pillow. He was in the hands of a witch.
    But there was a keen kindliness in the faded eyes,
and when she smiled at him, he smiled back. She held
out a work-worn hand. "I'm Hertha Aker. It's good
to have you back with us, stranger."
    Matt gripped the thin fingers and was surprised at
their strength. "Matt Barton, ma'am."
    Hertha nodded and gave his hand a firm shake. His
glance was drawn to grimy knuckles and dirt-encrusted
nails. Hurriedly she shoved them into her apron pocket,
explaining, "I can't get them clean anymore. They've
dug too many roots out of the earth."
    "Thank God for that," Matt said kindly. "I'm sure
your knowledge of medicine saved my life."
    She cocked a bright eye at him. "I couldn't have
done it if Marna hadn't worked on you as fast as she
did. She had most of the poison out of you before we
got you back here." She stood up and patted his shoulder. "You lay quiet, and I'll fix you a bowl of soup."
    Matt closed his eyes. He felt so damned weak. When the night air coming through the window hit him, he
was conscious that his body was wet with sweat. Evidently he'd run a high fever at some point.

    His thoughts went back to the snake and he shivered.
How he hated those rippling reptiles. Of all the things
in the world, he hated and feared them most.
    Through most of the shaky experience he had kept
his consciousness to a degree. He remembered that wild
girl stretching him out on the ground and then quickly
slitting open his pants leg with his hunting knife. He
had ground his teeth together when that knife made two
swift cuts over the twin red marks.
    Things had become fuzzy after that, but he had distinctly felt the girl's soft mouth close over the wound
and draw out the poison. He had felt the pull of her
lips, heard her spit, then felt her lips again. A half smile
appeared on his face. To think that that wild, simple
girl had saved his life.
    His eyes fell on the hill girl, sitting quietly on the
raised hearth. Her knees were drawn up under her skirt,
and her arms were wrapped around them. She gazed
into the flames, seemingly oblivious to those around
her. Hertha came and squatted beside her and lifted a
lid off a pot swinging over the flames. As she carefully
filled a bowl from it, she remarked reprovingly, "Why
did you stay away so long, Marnie? I was half out of
my mind."
    "I'm sorry, Grandma, I miscalculated the time," the
girl said softly.
    Matt's body went still at the sound of the throaty
voice. There was a soft huskiness about it that sent a
stirring in his loins. He caught himself straining