How my little mistress had passed the dragging, anxious hours of that awful day you can better imagine than I can describe. And my occasional visits had scarcely reassured her greatly. Yet in an emergency I have never known a woman who had more spirit, who could bear herself more courageously, and I never want to be so loyally or efficiently backed by anyone as she backed me. But I have often observed that it is the waiting that is hardest. It is the standing still and not knowing what is going to turn up, that takes strength out of a strong man and much more out of a nervous woman.
She had left her noon meal practically untouched, and was sitting there in the cabin nervously clutching the pistol, frightened half to death. Poor girl, I didn’t blame her. Whatever may have been the cause of it she was genuinely glad to see me when I came in and lighted the cabin lanterns.
“Oh,� she cried, “I have been in agony the whole day. Every sound has caused me to seize this weapon and when I have not been watching the door I have been on my knees praying for you and for myself. I do not think I can stand another day like this.�
“Please God, dear lady, you shall not,� I said, smiling reassuringly at her.
“What do you mean? Have you a plan?�
“I have. The men are all drunk.�
“I heard them taking the spirits from the rack, and—�
“I gave them all they wanted, and more,� I interposed.
“Was that wise?�
“Certainly.�