Evered’s lips flickered into what might have passed for a smile. “I’m not often moved against my will,” he said. “But I’ve no objection to your sleeping in my ground. If you keep out of the uncut hay.”
“I will.”
“And put out your fires. I don’t want to be burned up.”
Darrin laughed. “I’m not a novice at this, Mr. Evered,” he said. “You’ll not have to kick me off.”
Evered nodded; and John said, “You want to keep out of the bull’s pasture too. You’ll know it. There’s a high wire fence round.”
Darrin said soberly, “I’ve heard of the red bull.”
“He killed my wife,” said Evered; and there was something so stark in the bald statement that it shocked and silenced them. Evered himself flushed when he had spoken, as though his utterance had been unconsidered, had burst from his overfull heart.
“I know,” Darrin told him.
John said after a moment’s silence, “If there’s any way I can help—I know the swamp. As much as any man. And I’ve seen the moose in there.”
There was a certain eagerness in his voice; and Darrin said readily, “Of course. I’d like it.”