A hand was pressed gently upon his face.
"Rod--" Minnetaki spoke in a whisper, a whisper that trembled with gladness, with relief.

Rod smiled.

Weakly he lifted a hand and touched the sweet, white face above him.
"I'm glad to see you--Minnetaki--" he breathed.
The girl quickly put a cup of cold water to his lips.
"You mustn't try to move," she said softly, her eyes glowing.

"It isn't a very bad wound, and I've dressed it nicely.

But you mustn't move--or talk--or it may begin bleeding again." "But I'm so glad to see you, Minnetaki," persisted the youth.