“Well, Swickey!”
He put out both hands and she took them. His eyes told her he had found another than the Swickey he used to know, and yet—
“What is it, Dave?” she asked simply.
“I’m looking for Swickey; this is Nanette.”
“Oh, Dave,” she cried, restraining a sob, “I’ll never be Swickey again. Andy Slocum and Joe—Joe Smeaton—have been killed—in the gorge—the logs—oh, it was horrible! Andy fell and Joe tried to get him out—and they’re both gone.”
She pulled her hands from his and covered her face.
“Great Heavens, Swickey! Killed? When? On the drive?”
“Just now,” she sobbed. “I just came from there and I want to go home.”
“Come,” he said quietly.
Silently they walked along. Bascomb had gone ahead of them, for which she felt a grateful relief. Presently David spoke.