She reached out her arms. “Give him to me,” she whispered. “Give him to me.”
Through the agony that burned in her eyes she did not see the look in Stampede’s face. But she heard his voice.
“It wasn’t a bullet that hit him,” Stampede was saying. “The bullet hit a rock, an’ it was a chip from the rock that caught him square between the eyes. He isn’t dead, and he ain’t going to die!”
How many weeks or months or years it was after his last memory of the fairies’ hiding-place before he came back to life, Alan could make no manner of guess. But he did know that for a long, long time he was riding through space on a soft, white cloud, vainly trying to overtake a girl with streaming hair who fled on another cloud ahead of him; and at last this cloud broke up, like a great cake of ice, and the girl plunged into the immeasurable depths over which they were sailing, and he leaped after her. Then came strange lights, and darkness, and sounds like the clashing of cymbals, and voices; and after those things a long sleep, from which he opened his eyes to find himself in a bed, and a face very near, with shining eyes that looked at him through a sea of tears.
And a voice whispered to him, sweetly, softly, joyously, “Alan!”
He tried to reach up his arms. The face came nearer; it was pressed against his own, soft arms crept about him, softer lips kissed his mouth and eyes, and sobbing whispers came with their love, and he knew the end of the race had come, and he had won.
This was the fifth day after the fight in the kloof; and on the sixth he sat up in his bed, bolstered with pillows, and Stampede came to see him, and then Keok and Nawadlook and Tatpan and Topkok and Wegaruk, his old housekeeper, and only for a few minutes at a time was Mary away from him. But Tautuk and Amuk Toolik did not come, and he saw the strange change in Keok, and knew that they were dead. Yet he dreaded to ask the question, for more than any others of his people did he love these two missing comrades of the tundras.
It was Stampede who first told him in detail what had happened—but he would say little of the fight on the ledge, and it was Mary who told him of that.
“Graham had over thirty men with him, and only ten got away,” he said. “We have buried sixteen and are caring for seven wounded at the corrals. Now that Graham is dead, they’re frightened stiff—afraid we’re going to hand them over to the law. And without Graham or Rossland to fight for them, they know they’re lost.”
“And our men—my people?” asked Alan faintly.