"Tessibel, he is.... There is something the matter with him!" She was fully dressed, tremblingly holding the post of the bed for support. "There is something the matter with him!" she gasped again.
"Nothin' that air a-hurtin' him," soothed Tess. "He air marked with the fire what killed his pa, that air all.... See, t'ain't much."
She lifted the babe from the bed and held him up. The covering dropped from the shoulder, exposing the brilliant scar.
"Not much," moaned Teola. "Not much! Poor little baby Dan!"
The mark gleamed out on the wizened old face, the deep veins in the thin skin showing darkly. To Tess it looked more horrible than in the night before. But she had to reassure the mother—the little mother who, before that year, had never known one twinge of agony.
"It sure goes away sometime," said Tess.
Teola took the infant in her arms for a moment only. Moving the child caused the large grey eyes to open, the mouth widening into a yawn.
"Take him, Tess!" mourned the mother. "Oh, I—I want to die. Dear God! Dear, good God! Dan!... Dan, I want to come to you!"
In the presence of such grief Tessibel was silent.