“Cross yer heart!”
His sister agreed.
Mart took from a shirt pocket the dark-blue back that had once held brown wheat-straw papers.
“Inside,” he directed.
She opened it as the bay galloped swiftly along, and on the pink paper pasted there she read in scrawly penciling:
“The sons also of Aaron; Nadab and Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar.”
For a moment the desert swam toward her, yellow, suffocating. Then she said:
“Mart, I—I’m going to keep this.”
She was thrusting it into her pocket, but he turned sharply and grasped at it.
“You’re crazy! Why——”