He stirred; his lips moved; a small brown hand clenched in his blouse.
Venters knelt with a gathering horror of his deed.

His bullet had entered the rider's right breast, high up to the shoulder.

With hands that shook, Venters untied a black scarf and ripped open the blood-wet blouse.
First he saw a gaping hole, dark red against a whiteness of skin, from which welled a slender red stream.

Then the graceful, beautiful swell of a woman's breast! "A woman!" he cried.

"A girl!...