“I was down to the mill fer a load,” said Absalom to Joslin as they walked. “Hit’s a lucky thing. That’s his wife? Oh, my Lordy, hain’t that hard! Ye say he’s the Company man? He was rich——”
“Very rich,” said Joslin. “She’s a good woman, his wife. We’ll have to help her, Absalom. She’ll have to stay with us for a while. We’ll have to bury him in here, I reckon—he couldn’t ever be got out.”
“Tell me, how come him to get in thar, anyways?”
“Fell into the boat—and on over—he was trying to get something out of the boat,” replied Joslin. “The current carried him down under. You saw his hand—that was where I cut the fish hook out. He was swinging on the set-line when I saw him. I was on the other side then.”
“Ye’ve had a hard time savin’ of him, Davy, that’s shore enough,” rejoined Absalom soberly. “I know what that water is. Well, the Narrers has got one more man. Damn ‘em, anyways!”
They spoke no more when they had come to Marcia Haddon. She felt the hand of each of these tall men, one at each elbow, aiding her to rise, aiding her up the steep slope of the mountain, aiding her to climb up on the load of lumber where lay the long shrouded figure, covered with coats now—all that was left of what had been, or ought to have been, all in the world to her.
Absalom Gannt took up the reins and sat at the front of the load of lumber, his back toward them. Joslin sat at one side of the load, reaching out a hand now and then to steady Marcia Haddon, who sat opposite, swaying weakly against the rude jolting of the vehicle on the rough mountain roads. His hand was light, gentle, quickly withdrawn. The wagon wheels, creaking and groaning, sent their protest now up against the mountain side as they jolted onward. The wagon, tilting and rocking, carried on. Now and again the long shrouded object rolled horribly from one side to the other. On one side it met a hand firm and strong—this sodden body of James Haddon, now gone to his accounting. Upon the other side it met a hand which steadied it gently—the hand of a woman who, all her unhappy life, had never been otherwise than gentle with him.
BOOK IV