Neal laughed, and Steve said: “Bless his old bones, why Allie that was his way of keeping me from knowing just how he did feel. I might have been in that graveyard by this time if it hadn’t been for him. I stood in pretty good need of attention. Neal got leave to take me under his special care, and nursed me day and night. I came near keeling under two or three times, but he finally brought me up standing, and as soon as we thought I could undertake the journey we started. We have had to travel slowly, and I gave out once or twice, but I pulled through. We had set our hearts on getting here to-day, so I rather overdid it, and that is why I am a little the worse for wear now, but I’ll be as peart as a lizard before long.”
“There’s nothing like real unadulterated, triple X happiness as a medicine,” said Neal, “and that’s why I wanted to get you home as quick as I could.”
“But why did we never hear from either of you?” asked Alison.
“That was what worried me more than anything,” said Steve. “I asked old Cy Sparks to let you-all know about me, but he was a slick old party and wasn’t going to tell anything to his own discredit, as I might have known. He said I could get back soon and there would be some way of circumventing Pike. I could see that he had to let Pike have his way to a certain extent, and at that time I didn’t believe but that I would get back in the course of a few weeks at the most. There wasn’t much communication with the States after the war was on, and although I wrote from Los Angeles, I hadn’t much hope that you would get the letter. Of course after I was captured I might as well have been on an island in the Pacific, for all the news I could get to the outside world.”
“And as for me,” said Neal, “there wasn’t much to tell till I actually found Steve, and then he was such a poor triflin’ creetur he didn’t seem worth writin’ about.” By which they understood that so long as Steve’s life hung in the balance, Neal felt it would be poor kindness to raise hopes which, ultimately, might be proved false.
A silence fell upon the little group. From outside came the monotonous chirr of the insects, interrupted at intervals by the song of the mocking-bird thrilling from the vine over the door. “Well, you two have had experiences that would fill a book,” said John, breaking the pause. “I think I must go over and tell Laura. If two are company and three a crowd, what are double two and the odd one?”
“You can answer that conundrum for yourself,” replied Neal. “We’ll take the hint, Alison. Come out and leave that long-legged skeleton to Christine.” But the two they left indoors were scarcely happier than the two who sought the garden and paced love’s way to the music of the mockingbird’s song.
CHAPTER XX
NEW HOMES
THE deserted cabin in the woods was falling into dilapidation; the door, sagging on its hinges, creaked at every gust; wild beasts had stolen within to make it their haunt; and from under the broken roof chittering bats arose as night came on. Yet it was an interesting spot to a little party of riders who cantering through the woods under the swaying mosses which draped the forest trees, paused before the hut one afternoon. Stephen Hayward looked at it with curiosity; Christine turned from it with a shiver. “It is a dreadful place,” she said. “It brings up to me all that dreary time; all your terrible experiences; all the long waiting. Let us ride on.”
“Do you remember this little old place?” Neal was saying.