The boy pointed, trying to speak, "Bling Mist' Donal back," he gulped. "Me come tell."
Annesley pushed past him, and springing down the steps ran blindly through the sand cloud, taking the way by which the Chinese boy must have come home. Her mind pictured a procession carrying a dead man, or one grievously wounded; but at the cactus hedge she came upon three men—one in the centre, who limped, two who supported him on either side.
"Why, Anita!" exclaimed her husband's voice.
"Knight!" she sobbed. It was the first time since Easter a year ago that she had given him the old name.
"Thank God you're alive!"
"If you thank Him, so do I," he answered, whether lightly or gravely she could not tell. His tone was controlled, as if to hide pain. "It's all right. You mustn't worry any more. Wish I could have sent you news sooner. I hoped you'd guess we were getting the upper hand when the shots died away. Coming home I spotted the sneaks fording the river. I turned the car, and stirred up the boys. Then we had a shindy, and scared the dogs cold—bagged a few, but I guess nobody croaked—anyhow, none of our crowd. Half a dozen are after the curs.
"As for me, I feel as if I'd got a dum-dum in my ankle, but I'll be fit as a fiddle in a week or two. I'm afraid you had a fright."
How strange it was to hear him speak so coolly after what she had endured! But his calmness quieted her.
"Mr. Van Vreck was with me," she said.
"Van Vreck! Great Scott, then the raid was a frameup! I see. Boys, let's get along to the house quick."