"Your father? Hurt——Say, you ain't Ben Gaynor's daughter, are you?"
"Yes, yes. And papa——"
"They had a doctor over from Placerville last night. He's coming back again this morning some time."
"Take me to papa. Quick!" said Gloria imperiously. "You should have told me the minute I came."
"But I didn't know——"
"Quick!" repeated Gloria.
He showed her to the room, only three doors beyond her own. He moved to open the door but Gloria's hand was first to the knob; she opened and went in, closing the door softly. She was trembling, frightened, dreading, oppressed by fear of what might be. Though both windows were open the shades were drawn, the light was dim. She made out a man's form on the bed; there was a white bandage about his head. He stirred and turned half over.
"Papa!" cried Gloria, her voice catching.
She ran to him and went down on her knees at his bedside, her two hands finding his upon the coverlet, clasping them tight. He looked at her in wonderment; Gloria misread the look in his eyes and for a terrible moment thought that he was dying.
"Gloria!" he said in amazement. "Here——"