“It’s as if I was glad—’t she’s—she’s—Hold on there, Ephraim Marsh! While there’s life there’s hope and if—if ’twas so—she’d—there wouldn’t have been this on that!” he considered, holding before him the handkerchief he had pressed to Jessica’s cheek, now so sadly stained with red.
Of course, Jessica was not dead. Had she been, this story would have ended then and there; but for a long time her young life swayed in the balance and the skill of the best was brought to her aid. Her mother was notified, for a time by hourly telegrams, then by daily ones, of her exact condition; and that she did not immediately hasten to her daughter’s side was that she had herself suffered an accident of a broken limb and was helpless on her back.
Ned and Luis had disappeared up the canyon and as they had before—imperilled their lives in the mines—so now a presentiment of danger to them had sent her in pursuit. An unwary step, a loosened bit of rock, and her search was ended. She was carried home by the miners, two sadly repentant youngsters in her train, and for a time so discreet was their behavior that the ranch mistress could scarcely regret her own mischance which had brought this improvement about.
“It isn’t like a real hunchback, you know: only you were let fall when you
were little and got twisted somehow.”
(See page [112])
Fortunately, Aunt Sally, aided by Cousin Margaret, was able to dispel much of the mother’s anxiety; and when the news came that the girl was “out of danger” the former made a great feast and, preparing all the ranchmen by a preliminary dose of “medicine” for any possible ill results, celebrated the event in royal style.
Then she sat down and wrote a letter:
“My dear little Jess:
“Your Ma has broke her leg, and a fine thing too. Nothin’ short of broke bones would have set them two boys on the road to Good-ville. Sence then they’ve been next door to saints. Ain’t hooked none of my pies nor browbeat Wun Lung. I made a supper for the ‘boys’ and all the rest the men-folks, and I tell you I made Wunny cook for all he was worth. I picry-ed ’em all ’round, first, so as to carry off any indigestion they might get, over-eating, and it done ’em good. Even though my son John did say ’t he seen the most of ’em fling it on the ground, ’stead of into their stummicks.