The other affected to search his memory. He wrinkled his brow and pursed up his mouth.
"I remember you now perfectly. You're Vining."
They shook hands. Then Vining drew back as though assailed by a suspicion, and his glance flickered from one to the other of us like that of an animal at bay.
"They said you couldn't speak—what does this mean, anyway? You're trying—"
"Steady, old man," said the doctor.
The door to the sitting-room off the office opened, and Mrs. Vining came in. She went straight to the prospector, with her hands out pleadingly. Had she wavered, heaven knows what might not have happened.
"Harry!" she said.
What transpired after that I cannot say. Lafe and I found ourselves outside, and there the doctor joined us.
Not long after sunrise, Johnson himself drove a light, covered wagon in front of the porch steps, with me on the seat beside him. Our orders were to catch the Burro express with our guests.
Mrs. Vining came first, the prospector holding fast to her arm. His eyes were steady and he appeared perfectly rational, but uneasy and nervous, and he still shambled in his walk. Just behind them was the specialist, brisk and confident. He smiled on us triumphantly.