She caught the faint sound of some one moving through the bushes and raised her rifle.
"Halt! Who comes ?" she demanded as she saw the bushes sway, a few yards ahead of her, as some one worked their way slowly through them.
"It's Grace," came the answer.

"Help me in." "Girls!" called Miss Briggs sharply, springing forward.

She paused at the first glimpse of Grace Harlowe's face, which was pale; then hurried to her.
There were flecks of blood on Grace's cheek, and by that token Elfreda Briggs knew that she had been hit.
"Got a smack, I see." "Just a mere scratch," replied Grace.

"It made me feel weak and dizzy, but I shall be myself in a few moments." Elfreda led her companion into the camp, then examined Grace's wound, which, as the Overland girl had said, was a mere scratch over the left temple.

Miss Briggs washed the wound where a bullet had barely grazed the skin, and applied an antiseptic.
"Lie down a few minutes, Loyalheart," she urged.
Grace shook her head.
"I shall get my bearings sooner if I keep on my feet.