Again the section-boss gave a shrill, mocking laugh. "Too fat an' too mouthy," he answered.
For an instant Lounsbury wavered. In that instant the deep scarlet faded, his eyes opened, his nostrils spread.
"Pa! pa!" It was Marylyn, half-weeping.
Lounsbury's cool voice cleared the air. "I'm a Bismarck man," he said to the evangelist. "I've got a store there. My name is John Lounsbury." He held out his hand to Dallas.
She advanced again and took it. "Oh, thank you! thank you!" she breathed.
"'Bismarck man.'" It was Lancaster once more. "Wal, w'y the devil don' y' stay thar?"
Lounsbury took no notice of him. "I'll be hoofing it," he said to Dallas. "But if I can do anything—you understand." And went out.
David Bond's keen eyes studied the elder girl. He expected an outburst of anger and blame. He was surprised when, without speaking, she brought the benches to the fire and set about clearing the table. Lancaster seated himself and sucked moodily at his pipe. Marylyn flitted behind him, to disappear through the swinging blankets. The evangelist walked up and down.
It was not long before the silence told on the section-boss and forced him to talk. "Ef you-all got anythin' t' say," he snarled presently, "y' might as well spit it out."
No one answered.