He went to Xoa and patted her arm. “Better go inside, mother. It isn't a good thing to be looking at. Where are the children?”
Frank and Vona answered that question by appearing in the door. They were honestly affected by the news the Squire gave them. Vona hid her face against the young man's breast.
“It seems to be a self-operating proposition,” stated Colonel Wincott. “And about all anybody can do is to let it flicker!”
Vaniman was clearly not the captain of his soul in those distressing circumstances. He was displaying symptoms of collapse. Squire Hexter noted and acted.
“Wincott, this boy must not stay here in this town any longer. If that prison guard runs afoul of him before I get matters under way at the shire, Frank will be galloped back to his cell in order to make a grandstand play. I've got to be going. Take Frank under your wing. Get him over the border.”
“Surest thing in the world!” declared the hearty colonel. “Got a hitch?”
“My horse and double-seater. Come along to the stable—you, too, Frank. Xoa, bring him one of my coats and a hat!”
Vona leaped away from her lover and faced the Squire. “I shall go with him, wherever he may go!” she said, with the fire of one who expected to meet opposition.
But the Squire grinned. “Why, girl, of course you'll go! I wouldn't grab life-saving medicine away from a sick man. Take your mother along, and God bless the whole of you on the way.”
That way was toward the north, on the heels of the wains and the flocks and the herds and the men and women and children of the migrating population of Egypt.