The petition ended with a sob, that was really a gasp for breath, due to the excitement of his rage, and the anger of his mates changed to pity for him.
“His weak heart! How ill he has made himself!” thought Helena, compassionately putting her hand under his arm and helping him to his feet, where he stood trembling and still breathing with much difficulty.
Dorothy had told her of this weakness of the lad’s and that his parents had been somewhat doubtful if he could endure the rarefied air of that high region. If he could it would cure that other weakness of his lungs and they hoped for the best. She was frightened by his appearance and inwardly resolved to oppose any sort of fun which might bring on a return of this attack. She had already heard her brother and Monty proposing a bear hunt on the more distant peaks of the mountains and decided that it should never take place.
But Captain Lem was answering the boy and she listened to his words:
“Course, sonny, I shan’t lay it up again’ you. An’ I allow ’t there’s one thing decent about you: if you’re quick to get r’iled you’re just as quick to own yourself in fault. I’m willin’ to wash the slate all clean now, an’ start over again with any little problems we may meet, same’s when I was a little shaver, an’ ’tended deestrict school an’ got my sums wrong, the teacher made me do. I’m no hand to lay up malice just ’cause a feller’s got more ’n his share o’ temper, specially not again’ your father’s son. Anybody ’t spells his name Ford can do most as he’s a mind to with Lemuel Hunt. Only—don’t you dast to do it again; ’cause I’m some on the temper myself, an’ I ain’t much used to bein’ struck. So—so—just don’t show off any more o’ that there little playfulness again. That’s all.”
Too proud to show how really shaken and miserable he felt, the sharpshooter retired to his own quarters at the Barracks and was seen no more that night: but he sent word to Dorothy, the “Little One,” that Netty, the lamb, had been given a soft bed close to his own and would be carefully attended.
The hours passed quietly till bedtime, which all the young strangers at San Leon felt inclined to make early that night. Seven young people, with all the means of enjoyment at hand which these had, should have been very merry, but these were not. The absence of their hosts made the great house seem very empty. Nobody had heart for any music, though Dorothy bravely brought out her violin and Helena took her place at the piano, ready to accompany. But, unfortunately, the first melody which came to Dolly’s mind was one that Father John, Aunt Betty, and poor Jim had each loved best—“Auld Lang Syne.”
She mastered a few strains and the tears rose to her eyes. She suddenly felt lonely and helpless, so far from all who had hitherto made her happy world. So, rather than break down completely and let the tears fall, she nodded to Helena and put her beloved Cremona “to bed,” as she called its placing in its case.
“Let’s play ‘Authors,’” suggested Molly.
“‘Authors’ is the dullest game going,” objected Monty.