"Wait! Wait!" cried Mrs. Nelson. "You must have some supper and you must rest. You look terrible!"
Douglas shook his head. "Every minute counts. I'm not tired, only terribly worried. I couldn't rest."
Nelson walked over to the door deliberately, and put a big hand on Doug's shoulder. "You fill yourself with some hot food, Spencer. You know better than to tackle this job empty. That girl is in a desperate frame of mind. You are going to have a struggle with her, if you do overtake her. You must be cool and save your mind and body. How did she come to be in such, a state of mind?"
"She wasn't desperate," said Mrs. Nelson, unexpectedly. "She was sort of—of wild. I can't just find the word for it. But lots of young women are like that now-a-days."
Douglas looked at her curiously. Some phrase of Peter's, half forgotten, came back to him. "Revolt," he muttered. "Revolt, that's it."
The woman nodded. "Yes, revolt's the word."
Elijah shook Doug's shoulder. "How many horses have you?"
"Two."
"I'll feed 'em. Go sit down to that table and let my wife fix you up."
Douglas slowly pulled off his gloves, and his voice broke boyishly as he said, "You folks are awful kind."