I felt her slip loose from my neck then. She'd kept tight hold of me all the time, so I couldn't do anything. I looked down at her, and she was all loose and white. I reckon she fainted, though I never seen anyone do that before.
I laid her down on the boards, and I was so cold mad clean through now I couldn't of said a word. I've felt that way before. There ain't no law then. But he was white as she was.
"Curly," says he, "what have we done to the poor child?"
"She ain't your pore child," says I; and, with her in my arms and me helpless, I felt hot in my eyes. "She's our pore child. Shut up and go home!"
He didn't go home, but went and got some water in his hat.
"It's cruel, cruel—it's all been cruel for her, who deserves the best that life could give. Can't you believe me, man?" says he.
She couldn't hear us now, and even the water I poured on her face didn't wake her up. I wouldn't let him touch her.
"Lord help us all!" says I. "For now it's a hard thing to say what's best. Tell me," says I, "was there anything I didn't hear? Did she make any sort of promise to you?"
"Not a word," says he—"not a word."
"That's lucky," says I. "The Circle Arrow never went back on its word. I'm glad she didn't promise you nothing," says I.