“Now if you’ll hop along by yourself for a few yards more you’ll be there,” spoke the tall, vague form behind the metal lamp. “Sorry my doorway’s so tight, but it was made before I came here.”
The injured girl, drooping against a stone beside her, let the jest pass without a smile.
“You go ahead,” she prompted wearily. “You’ve got boots.”
“What of it?” he puzzled.
“Snakes.”
“Ouch! Snakes around here?”
“Why, sure. This country’s full of ’em—rattlers and copperheads. Guess you ain’t been into here long, mister.”
“Right. I haven’t. But—Lordy! You shouldn’t go around barefoot in snake country.”
“Mebbe. But folks can’t wear out their shoes into summer if they’re goin’ to have ’em for winter, can they?”
He made no reply. Into the gap he turned, and through it he passed to the larger space beyond, his wide shoulders rubbing the rock as he passed. Behind him she limped along, leaning against one wall.