It can be said for Ned, for the reality of his resolve, that his words seemed to ring with conviction, giving no sign of the utter despair that was in his heart. Of course he was speaking them for the ears of Lenore and Bess, in order to encourage them.
“You think so, eh?” Doomsdorf yawned and stretched his arms. “Just try something—that’s all. And since you’re feeling so good, I don’t see why you shouldn’t get to work. You can still put in a fairly good morning. And you”—he turned, with the catlike swiftness that marked so many of his movements, toward Bess—“what’s your name?”
“You just heard him say. Miss Gilbert——”
“You can forget you are a ‘Miss.’ You’re a squaw out here—and can do squaw’s work. What’s your first name?”
Bess, in her misery, looked at him with dread. “Bess Gilbert,” she answered quietly.
“Bess it will be. Lenore, I think you call the other—and Ned. Good thing to know first names, since we’ve got an uncertain number of years before us. Well, I suggest that all three of you go out and see what you can do about wood. You’ll have to cut some and split it. I’ve been lazy about laying in a winter store.”
Much to his amazement, Ned stood erect, pulled down his cap over his brown curls, and buttoned his coat. “I’ll see what we can do,” he answered straightforwardly. “I have, though, one thing to ask.”
“What is it——”
“That you let the two girls take it easy to-day—and get warmed through. If you sent them out now, weakened as they are, it might very easily mean pneumonia and death. It’s to your interest to keep them alive.”
“It’s to my interest, surely—but don’t rely on that to the extent of showing too much independence. The human body can stand a lot before it gives up the ghost. The human voice can do a lot of screaming. I know, because I’ve seen. I don’t mind running a little risk with human life to get my way, and I know several things, short of actual killing, that go toward enforcing obedience and quelling mutiny.”