“He’s got a dog he’s very thick with, and he’s got a comfortable tent.”
“A tent, in that climate!”
“It’s all anybody has. No lumber for cabins; little even for sluices, hardly enough for rockers—to rock out the dust, you know. Wood is dearer than gold.”
“A tent!”
“I assure you there was only one thing he was really in want of.”
“What was that?”
“Some way to get word to you. He knew you’d be anxious. He wants you not to take his failure to heart. He thinks a great deal about that, because he says you helped—”
“Yes, yes.”
“He wanted me to make it quite clear to you that in spite of everything he wasn’t sorry he’d tried it. And you mustn’t be sorry either. You must write to him, Hildegarde, and reassure him.”
She nodded and turned away her face, but she put up her hand like one who cannot bear much more.