He could see that the girl was burning up with fever, and he could hear her voice growing husky,--could hear, too, the painful laboring of her breath.

When she was not mumbling incoherent nonsense she was laughing hoarsely at the plight she was in, and after that she would hold both hands to her chest and moan in a way that made Lone grind his teeth.
When he lifted her off his horse at the foreman's cottage she was whispering things no one could understand.

Three cowpunchers came running and hindered him a good deal in carrying her into the house, and the foreman's wife ran excitedly from one room to the other, asking questions and demanding that some one do something "for pity's sake, she may be dying for all you know, while you stand there gawping like fool-hens." "She was out all night in the rain--got lost, somehow.

She said she was coming here, so I brought her on.

She's down with a cold, Mrs.Hawkins.
Better take off them wet clothes and put hot blankets around her.