“Captain! You here? You understand?”
“Yes–yes. They waked me, talking, and I crept to the upper hall to stop them, so they should not disturb my poor, tired dear. Oh! I heard! I heard–every–single–dreadful word!”
“Well, I’m going to fix him for it.”
“John, wait–wait. I must think. My precious mother––”
Jessica rarely wept. Now she flung herself into Aunt Sally’s arms and sobbed in a way that set the carpenter raging afresh. One after another the “boys” came out from the closed or open doors along the row. Some because it was their usual hour for rising, others to learn the cause of these early voices. But one glimpse of Lady Jess in trouble grouped every ranchman about her and set each to hurling a torrent of questions upon that good woman, who held her, without pause for any answer.
But John held up his hand and told the story. It belonged to them all, as Jessica did, and the honor of Sobrante.
They heard it with little comment, save groans and occasional mutterings, punctuated by fresh inquiries of Mrs. Benton. Considerable mystery had been thrown about her cross-examination of her temporary patient, and after all it had proved the simplest matter in the world. Concerning his own personal affairs he was provokingly silent, but he was as ready to talk about his business in that region as she was to have him when, after a roundabout preparation, she brought him to it.
“I am in honor pledged to do my best for my employers in the East, and unwilling to remain here under false colors, so to speak, any longer. Who is the most responsible person here, excepting Mrs. Trent?” had been his words.
“I am,” promptly replied Aunt Sally.