The poor demented creature would not speak nor pay any attention to the other men, but when he saw Steve he smiled as he asked:
“You’ve come to take me away from them, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Steve said. “Will you go with me now?”
La Monte stood up.
“Yes, if you won’t let them get me; those witches want to drag me back to hell, but I’ve fooled them this time. I’ve almost caught up with him once or twice and they drag me back.” And he walked off quietly by Steve’s side.
Steve took him to the bunkhouse, gave him some coffee and made him lie down on his bed. While Steve sat beside him La Monte slept fitfully, but at the slightest move started and tried to get up. Steve fell in with all his vagaries; he promised to help him escape the witches and to help him find the person for whom he seemed to be searching.
“Where was he last?” Steve asked, hoping to find some clue.
“Why, on his horse.” La Monte sat up and stared wildly into Steve’s eyes. “Don’t you know, he’s always on a horse, a big black horse. He’s there just ahead of me, he’s always just ahead of me,” and he jumped up and started toward the door.
Steve calmed him again and he fell back on the pillows and lay there in silence, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.