He glanced at the window, then about the room.
“It’s broad day. That word Blatch sent was a decoy; Huldah Spiller isn’t on the mountain. Somebody must go over there.”
Judith rose swiftly to her feet.
“My Lord, Creed! I forgot all about ’em,” she said contritely. “Ye don’t reckon Blatch would harm the boys? And yet yo’ right—it does look bad. I don’t know what to do, honey. They ain’t a man on the place till Uncle Jep comes. But maybe he’ll be along in about an hour.”
She hurried to the window and stared over toward the Gulch; and at the moment a group of people topped the steep, rising into view one after the other out of the ravine, and coming on toward the house.
“Here they are now,” she said with relief in her tones. “Thar’s Andy—Jeff, Pendrilly—why, whatever—The Lusk girls is with ’em! They’s another—Creed, they have got Huldy! And that last feller—no, ’tain’t Blatch—of all things—it’s Wade! They’re comin’ straight to this door. Shall I let them in?”
“Yes,” said Creed’s steady voice. “Let them right in.”
She ran swiftly to slip an extra pillow under her patient’s shoulders, straighten the covers of the bed, and put all in company trim. Her eye brightened when she saw him sitting so erect and alert almost like his old self. Somebody rattled the latch.
“Come in, folks,” Creed called, speaking out with a roundness and decision that it did her heart good to hear.
They all pushed into the room, the men shouldering back a little, glancing anxiously at the sick man, the Lusk girls timid, but Huldah leading the van.