"It's the Captain," said VB unsteadily, as though too much breath were in his lungs. "He's mine—you know—mine!"
The others looked at him in silent awe.
CHAPTER XI
A Letter and a Narrative
Jed Avery had been away from Young VB almost two weeks, and he had grown impatient in the interval. So he pushed his bay pony up the trail from Ranger, putting the miles behind him as quickly as possible. The little man had fretted over every step of the journey homeward, and from Colt on into the hills it was a conscious effort that kept him from abusing his horse by overtravel.
"If he should have gone an' busted over while I was away I'd—I'd never forgive myself—lettin' that boy go to th' bad just for a dinky claim!"
It was the thousandth time he had made the declaration, and as he spoke the words a thankfulness rose in his heart because of what he had not heard in Ranger. He knew that VB had kept away from town. Surely that was a comfort, an assurance, a justification for his faith that was firm even under the growling.
Still, there might have been a wanderer with a bottle—
And as he came in sight of his own buildings Jed put the pony to a gallop for the first time during that long journey. Smoke rose from the chimney, the door stood open, an atmosphere of habitation was about the place, and that proved something. He crowded his horse close against the gate, leaned low, unfastened the hasp, and rode on through.