The old man fidgeted for fifteen minutes more; he had grown nervous. He slid out of the bed quietly and went to the barn.
“Thought I heard a noise,” he told himself by way of excuse for his action. “Wonder if Old Queen’s loose?” He felt his way along the manger carefully. Unaccustomed to midnight visitors, Queen snorted and shrank from his hand when he touched her.
“Whoa, there! You needn’t be so blamed ’fraid—nothin’s goin’ t’ hurt you. You ain’t a woman.”
Silas found a nail-keg and sat down on it across from the nibbling horses, and thought and waited.
“He’s there by this time,” he murmured presently. “Wisht they’d ’a’ sent for Liza Ann. No, I guess it’s better not. She wouldn’t know what t’ do, havin’ no experience.”
He debated with himself as to whether he should go back to bed or not.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he concluded. “Lord! how long the nights is when a feller’s awake!”
The horses ate on uninterruptedly and the soft breeze stole through the old barn, while everything in nature was indicative of peace except the old man, whose mind worked relentlessly on the situation of the young wife whose certain suffering racked him almost as much as if he had stood in its presence.
“Gosh-a-livin’s!” he exclaimed as a new thought struck him. “I wonder which one of ’em Jake got. Now that young Doc Stubbins ain’t got no more sense ’n a louse. I ought t’ ’a’ told John an’ I forgot. Lord! Lord! th’ chances th’ poor critters have t’ take!”
Mrs. Chamberlain was awakened in the gray light of morning as her husband crept shivering into bed.