"Diana," said Enoch, "I wish you'd sit down. You've done enough for us."
Diana smiled and shook her head. "I struck the camp first, so I'm boss. Na-che and I are going out to see that everything's all right for the night and that Mack and Curly get a good start. While we're out, you're all going to bed. Then Na-che is coming in to make Mr. Milton as comfortable as she can. Our tent is under the cottonwoods and if you want anything during the night, Mr. Milton, all you have to do is to call through the window. Neither of us will undress so we can be on duty, instantly. There is plenty of stew still simmering in the pot, and cold biscuit on the table. Good night, all of you."
"Na-che, she don't need to bother. I'll look out for Mr. Milton," said
Jonas, suddenly rousing from his chair where he had been dozing.
"You go to bed and to sleep, Jonas," ordered Diana. "Good night,
Judge."
"Good night, Diana!"
The door closed softly and Diana was seen no more that night. The rain ceased at midnight and the stars shone forth clear and cold, but Milton was the only person in the camp to be conscious of the fact. Just as the dawn wind was rising, though, and the cottonwoods were outlining themselves against the eastern sky, stumbling footsteps near the tent wakened both Diana and Na-che, and they opened the tent flap, hastily.
Forrester was clinging to a cottonwood tree. At least it was a worn, bleached, ragged counterfeit of Forrester.
"Hard's back on the trail apiece. I came on for help," he said huskily.
"Is he sick or hurt?" cried Diana.
"No, just all in."