Toward dusk Dora opened her eyes, to find Muriel beside her, watching lest she should awaken and try to run away. Dora clung to Muriel as her only friend, and the more helpless she grew, the more Muriel loved her.
The conscience that had so long lain dormant or stifled now made its presence known, and the great mystery of an awakening soul was taking place in Muriel. She went over each lawless act of her life in her mind, and with each fresh remembrance she quailed in horror at herself. Now she was like a mother being robbed of her child. John Pierson could not harm Dora without first killing her—on that she was determined. She had given Dora the potion more for the child’s own sake than at John’s orders, for without it Dora might have become violent, and so it would have brought matters to a climax, and one full of danger.
Muriel had tried twice to send a telegram to Dora’s father, but had been thwarted, so now all she could do was to watch over her.
As a last resort, Muriel resolved, in case of immediate danger, to appeal to the genuine chivalry of the men about. True, John would probably kill her, but what was her wrecked life worth? At least she could save the girl!
Dora’s love for Bennie was so innocent and trustful that it touched Muriel immeasurably, and it was still another reason why she must save the child, for so Dora was to this world-weary woman.
As Dora awoke, she sat up, saying:
“Oh, where did father and Bennie go? They were here just now. Oh, why didn’t you stop them? Oh, I want my father, my good father!”
At that moment Dora’s father was being covered comfortably by Shoshone and Loney not one hundred yards from where she was wailing for him.
“There, dearie. Don’t worry. We will soon find them. Don’t you want something to eat? You can have a nice, warm supper now in a little while. Come, let me fix your hair and bathe your face and hands.”
“Do you think they will get here soon? I don’t see why they stay so. They must know that I am frightened. Father never left me alone so long.”