"Then ye air a-comin' home with me to the shanty." Tess muttered this in a sly voice, almost in a whisper.
Teola raised her glance, and read in the eyes bent upon her that her whole secret was known. Tessibel Skinner, her father's foe, the daughter of a murderer, was helping her to her feet.
"I'm too sick to walk," she wept, in a barely audible voice. "I tried to throw myself from the rocks, over there, but the water was so silent, blue and terrible, that I couldn't."
"Ye be comin' with me," insisted Tess stolidly.
She was urging her forward, holding Teola by both arms.
"I can't! I can't! Leave me here—I am so ill! I am going to die!"
"Ye air to come," commanded Tess. "And, if ye will, I'll lug ye when ye can't walk. Women like ye don't die, and Mother Moll will come to the hut to-day."
"Mother Moll!" echoed Teola. "Mother Moll! Oh, you mean the witch? And will she—oh, will she help me so they will never know?"
"Yep. And now shut up. Ye air a woman, and was borned for things like this. If ye walks a spell, then I lugs ye across the gully."
"And my father and mother—"