Indifferently Bear Cat obeyed. Several times his lips moved without sound, while the other pressed investigating fingers over the splendidly sinewed torso and bathed away the dried blood.
"Hit looks p'intedly like ye've been seekin' ter prove them fruitless stories thet bullets kain't kill ye," observed the preacher at the end of his inspection, speaking with a somber humor. "Ye've done been shot right nigh yore heart, an' ther bullet jest glanced round a rib without penetratin'. Ye've done suffered wounds enough ter kill a half-dozen ord'nary humans—an' beyond wastin' a heap of blood ye don't seem much injured."
"I wisht," declared the young man bitterly, "ye'd done told me thet I was about ter lay down an' die. Thet's all I'm longin' fer now."
For some moments they were silent; then Joel Fulkerson's grave pupils flickered and a hint of quaver stole into his voice.
"Son, I've done spent my life in God's sarvice—unworthily yet plumb earnest, too, an' thar's been times a-plenty when hit almost looked ter me like He'd turned aside His face in wrath fer ther unregenerate sin of these-hyar hills. I've hed my big dreams, too, Turner ... an' I've seed 'em fail. Oftentimes, despairin' of ther heathenism of ther growed-ups, I've sot my hopes on ther comin' generation. If ther children could be given a new pattern of life ther whole system mout come ter betterment."
The young man had been putting on again his discarded shirt and coat, but his hands moved with the fumbling and apathetic motions of a sleep-walker. His face, turned always toward that room beyond the wall, was set in a dull immobility, yet he heard what the elder man was saying, and listened with the impatience of one whose thoughts are in travail, and whose interest for abstractions is dead. The preacher recognized this, but with a resolute effort he continued. "When you war a leetle shaver I seed in yore eyes thet ye hed dreams above sordidness.... Oft-times when I watched ye gazin' off acrost the most distant ridges I 'lowed that God hed breathed a wonderful gift inter ye ... ther ability ter dream an' make them dreams come true. I seed thet ye hed power, power thet mout do great good or make yore name a terror ter mankind, dependin' on which way ye turned hit." An agonized groan came brokenly from the twisted lips. Bear Cat dropped into a chair and covered his eyes with trembling palms. He had faced his enemies without flinching, but after the cumulative forms of torture through which he had passed to-night, his stoicism threatened to break under the kind intentions of a talkative friend.
Still the evangelist went on: "I had visions of a new type of mountain folks—some day ... when boys like you an' gals like Blossom grew up—and wedded. Folks with all the honesty an' generosity we've got now—but with ther black hate an' suspicion gone—. Ay—an' ther cause of hit gone, too,—ther blockade stills."
Turner's nails bit into his temples as if with an effort to hold the fugitive reason in his bursting head, as the words assaulted his ears.
"I've set hyar afore my fire many's ther night, a-dreamin' of some day when there'd be a grandchild on my knee ... yore child an' Blossom's ... a baby thet would be trained up right."
Suddenly Turner's silence of apathy broke and he fell to trembling, while his eyes flared wildly. "In God's name why does ye have ter taunt me in this hour with reminders of all thet I've lived fer an' lost? Does ye reckon I kin ever fergit hit?" He broke off, then went on again with panting vehemence. "I hain't never had no dream but what was jest a part of thet dream.