And those two?
One sat almost motionless, as he had been for the twenty-four hours. But as Mrs. Huzzard and the captain left his room, each spoke hopefully of his appearance. Mrs. Huzzard especially was very confident his face showed more animation than she had observed at her noonday visit; and the fact that he could move his head and nod in reply to questions certainly did seem to promise recovery.
In the adjoining room, close to the very thin partition, ’Tana lay with ears strained to catch each word of the conversation. But when her door was opened by Mrs. Huzzard, all semblance of interest was gone, and she lay on the little bed with closed eyes.
“I’m right glad she’s taking a nap at last,” said the good soul as she closed the door softly. “That child scarce slept a bit all night, and I know it. Curious how nervous 144 she got over that man’s troubles. But, of course, he did look awful at first, and nigh about scared me.”
’Tana lay still till the steps died away on the stairs, and the voices were heard more faintly on the lower floor. All the day she had waited for the people to leave the stranger in the next room alone; and, for the first time, no voice of visitors broke the silence of the upper floor.
She slipped to the door and listened. Her movements were stealthy as that of some forest animal evading a hunter. She turned the knob softly, and with still swiftness was inside the stranger’s room, and the door closed behind her.
He certainly was more alert, for his eyes met hers instantly. His look was almost one of fear, and she was trembling visibly.
“I had to come,” she said, nervously, in a half whisper, “I heard the letters read, and I have to tell you something I’ve thought all night—all day—and I have to tell you. Do you understand? Try to understand. Nod your head if you do. Do you?”
Her speech was rapid and impatient, while she listened each moment lest a step sound on the stairs again. But in all her eagerness to hear she never looked away from his face, and she uttered a low exclamation of gladness when the man’s head bent slowly in assent.
“Oh, I am so glad—so glad! You will get well; you must! Listen! I know you now, and why you looked at me so. You think you saw me up at Revelstoke—I think I remember your face there—and you don’t trust me. You are looking for that man—the man that took her away from you. You think I could find a trail to him; but you are wrong. He is dead, and I know she 145 is—I know! Your name was the last word she said—‘Joe.’ She wanted you to forgive her, and not cross his path. You don’t believe me, perhaps; but it is all true. I went to the camp with—with the boy she wrote of. She talked of you to me. I had word to give you if we ever met. But how was I to know that Jim Harris was the man—the same man? Do you hear—do you believe me?”