Alarmed, Hinter drew the big chair about so that the light would fall on the sick man's face. Slowly Landon opened his eyes. He struggled erect and attempted to speak, but a fit of coughing assailed him and robbed him of breath.
From his pocket Hinter drew a flat bottle and poured a portion of its contents into a glass. Gently raising the emaciated form to a more comfortable position, he held the glass to the blue lips. Under the stimulant of the brandy Landon rallied.
"Thanks," he whispered. Then, hospitality his first thought, he motioned towards a chair. Hinter sat down.
"Worse than usual tonight, isn't it?" he asked in kindly tones.
"Yes, asthma's that way—eases off—then comes back—hits you sudden." He glanced at the bottle. Hinter, understanding, poured him out another portion.
"It seems to be the only thing that helps," gasped Landon as he swallowed the draught.
Hinter nodded. "Not a bad medicine if rightly used," he said. He filled his pipe, lit it, and passed the tobacco-pouch to Landon. He was watching the door leading to the inner room.
"Erie out in her boat?" he asked, casually. "I don't hear her voice, or her whistle."
"She's out on the bay," answered the father and lapsed again into brooding silence.
Hinter waited. At length Landon roused from his musings. "My heart's heavy for her," he said, "and heavy for the young man who loves her. You've heard, of course. News of the like spreads quickly."