In his overwrought singleness of purpose Turner forgot that this man was beyond any force of threat or coercion. As he spoke so dictatorially he believed himself, too, to be facing death with equal certainty, though more slowly, and what he had sworn to do must first be done.
Yet there was such an inescapable compulsion in the ernest fixity of his pale face and burning eyes that the outstretched figure felt its own declining will merged and conquered.
"Hit's ther only decent thing thet's left fer ye ter do," went on the strained but inflexible voice. "Ye took her heart fer yore own—an' broke hit. Ye've got ter let her have yore name an' ther consolation of believin' thet ye came ter her ... honest, fightin' back black death hitself!"
Sometimes between sleep and waking come fugitive thoughts that seem crystal-clear, but that elude definite memory. Such a process enacted itself in the mind of the dying man. Doubt and complications were dissolved into simplicity—and acquiescence.
Faintly he nodded his head and even tried to hold out his hand to be shaken. Perhaps Bear Cat was too excited to recognize that proffer of amenity. Possibly his own bitterness was yet too black for forgiveness—at all events he turned away without response to seek out Joel Fulkerson, who had disappeared.
"Ye've got ter hasten, Brother Fulkerson," he hurriedly urged. "Jerry Henderson's done come back ter give his name ter Blossom afore he dies an' death hain't far off."
The old evangelist was bending over a medicine chest. It was a thing which a visiting surgeon had once given him and in the use of which he had developed an inborn skill that had before now saved lives and ameliorated suffering. He straightened up dubiously and faced the younger man.
"Turney," he said grimly, "ef they don't wed, folks hyarabouts'll always look askance at my little gal with a suspicion thet I'm confident is as false as hell hitself—but God made ther state of matrimony holy—an' I'm his servant—onlessen they both enters inter hit free-minded hit wouldn't be nothin' but a blasphemy. Air they both of one mind?"
Turner stiffened to a ramrod straightness. His hands clenched themselves into hard fists and his nostrils quivered.
"Brother Fulkerson, ye're a godly man," he declared with suppressed passion, "an' I hain't never sought ter dispute ye ner defy ye afore now—but thar hain't no time ter argyfy. Willin'ly or unwillin'ly ye're a-goin' ter wed them two—right hyar—an' now! He plighted his troth ter her. He's got a mighty brief chanct ter fulfill his pledge an' leave her thinkin' she gave her love ter a true man. He's come acrost hyar, shot like a bob-white—jest fer thet. I've fought off death my own self ter-night—jest fer thet! Ef God has spared both of us this long, I reckon He done hit—jest fer thet! I'll answer ter Him at ther jedgment-seat, ef so be I'm wrong."