“Man! I dunno what devil gits into men sometimes. Man went and got drunk as a fool soon as he seen the fire and knew what coulda happened out here. Started right in to drownd his sorrows before he made sure whether he had any to drown! If that ain't like a man, every time! Time we all got back to town, and the fire was kiting away from us instead of coming up toward us, he was too drunk to do anything. He must of poured it down him by the quart. He—”
“Manley! Is that you, dear?” It was Val, a slim, white figure against the blackness all around her, coming down the trail to see what delayed them. “Why don't you come to the house? There is a house, you know. We aren't quite burned out. And I'm all right, so there's no need to worry any more.”
“Now, ain't that a darned shame?” muttered Arline wrathfully to Kent. “A feller that'll drink when he's got a wife like that had oughta be hung!
“It's me, Arline Hawley!” She raised her voice to its ordinary shrill level. “It ain't just the proper time to make a call, I guess, but it's better late than never. Man, he was took with one of his spells, so I told him I'd come on out and take you back to town. How are you, anyhow? Scared plumb to death, I'll bet, when that fire come over the hill. You needn't 'a' tramped clear down here—we was coming on to the house in a minute. I got to chewin' the rag with Kent. Git in; you might as well ride back to the house, now you're here.”
“Manley didn't come?” Val was standing beside the rig, near Kent. Her white-clothed figure was indistinct, and her face obscured in the dark. Her voice was quiet—lifelessly quiet. “Is he sick?”
“Well—of course has nerves was all upset—”
“Oh! Then he is sick?”
“Well—nothing dangerous, but—he wasn't feelin' well, so I thought I'd come out and take you back with me.”
“Oh!”
“Man was awful worried; you mustn't think he wasn't. He was pretty near crazy, for a while.”