Wal, then she turned to the bunch, speakin’ awful anxious. “Is he hurt bad?” she ast, low like.
“Naw,” I begun, “I––”
Monkey Mike edged ’twixt me and her, puttin’ one hand over my mouth so ’s I couldn’t talk. “We don’t know exac’ly,” he answers.
“Boys!” she says, like she was astin’ ’em to fergive her; and, “Alec!”
Buckshot said afterwards that it shore was a solemn death-bed scene. The parson was back agin the wall, his chin on his bosom; I was chawin’ the fingers offen Mike, and the rest of the fellers was standin’ t’gether, laughin’ into they hats fit t’ sprain they faces.
Billy come in then. “Doc,” says Macie, “save him!”
“I’ll do all I can,” promises Billy. “Let’s hope he’ll pull through.”
“Aw, Alec!” says Mace, again.
Hairoil went up to her. “Mace,” he says, “they’s one thing you can do that’d be a mighty big comfort t’ pore Cupid.”
“What’s that?” she ast, earnest as the devil. “I’ll do anythin’ fer him.”