Two days later, at sundown, he came back. She heard the ringing of hoofs along the trail and ran forward to meet him, catching the bridle as the horse, a white lather of sweat, came to a panting halt. She did not notice the lined exhaustion of the old man's face, had no care for anything but his news.
"I've got everything fixed," he cried, and then slid off holding to the saddle for he was stiff and spent. "The place is ready and I've found a doctor and got him nailed. It'll be all clean and shipshape for you. How's Low?"
An answer was unnecessary. He could see there were no good tidings.
"Weaker a little," she said. "But if it's fine we can start to-morrow."
He thought of the road he had traveled and felt they were in God's hands. Then he stretched a gnarled and tremulous claw and laid it on her shoulder.
"And there's other news, Missy. Great news. I'm thinking that it may help you."
There was no news that could help her but news of Low. She was so fixed in her preoccupation that her eye was void of interest, as his, bright and expectant, held it:
"I seen David."
He was rewarded. Her face flashed into excitement and she grabbed at him with a wild hand:
"David! Where?"