"It's only a flesh wound; it don't matter—much. Mrs. Worth dressed it, and I'm all right. It's the Captain I want to tell about—the Captain, Jed!"
And he told it all, in short, choking sentences, stripping his soul naked for the little rancher. He did not spare himself, not one lone lash. He ended, crushed and bleeding before the eyes of his friend. After a pause he straightened back in his chair, the new fire in his eyes, the fire the man at Worth's had seen when he offered drink.
"But I've got to make it up to the Captain now," he said with a wild little laugh. "I've got to go on. He gave me the chance. He took me into blackness, into the test I needed, and brought me back to light. I've got to be a man, Jed—a man—"
And throughout the night Jed Avery tended the wound and watched and muttered—with joy in his heart.
Morning came, with quieted nerves for VB. He lay in the bunk, weak, immobile.
Jed came in from tending the horses.
"He didn't bleed, did he, VB?"
"No."
"It ain't what you thought, sonny. It ain't bad. Give him a rest an' he'll be better'n ever. Why, he's out there now, head up, whisperin' for you! You can't break a spirit like his unless you tear his vitals out!"
VB smiled, and the smile swelled to a laugh.