“We need to act quick,” she said, her troubled eyes gazing down at the object of their pity. Then: “What—what are we to do?”
“Do? Do?”
A great light was shining in the man’s eyes. It was a smile of hope such as Blanche had never known in him. It was as though the tragedy they had discovered had furnished him with something he had never looked for, as though a great overwhelming desire of his had been suddenly fulfilled.
“She’s going right up the valley. That poor little kid isn’t dead. She’s just sick to death. Do? Why, she needs all the help we can hand her. It’s my chance. It’s the thing I’ve dreamed. I’m going to pay her father through her. And I’m going to pay with both hands.”
Jim Pryse’s purpose was carried out without regard to any consequences. His impulse was irresistible. Blanche had protested half-heartedly, but her protests had been swept aside. She had warned him of the danger to himself and to others in the thing he was about to do. And he had laughed. She had reminded him of Lightning, and Molly’s own home. And again he had only laughed. Then he had displayed that forethought for which Blanche had given him no credit.
His plan was simple, as his plans always were. He had thought out the whole thing at the express speed which was ever his way. His purpose alone mattered. All objections that might fairly be raised against it were only things to be ignored, and, in a few moments, the whole thing had been agreed between them. In the end Blanche gladly enough undertook her share in the work.
It was arranged that they should change horses, for two perfectly sound reasons. In the first place, Beelzebub was the fresher of the two, and he was high strung and nervous, and would be difficult when asked to carry that which looked so like a dead human body. So it was decided that Pedro, the infinitely more steady, should carry Molly and Jim up to the valley.
The change of saddles effected, Blanche assisted in lifting Molly across the front of Jim’s saddle. When Jim had mounted, and raised her into his arms, and, supporting her, had set off up the queer ledge path to the cavern mouth from which the sparkling waters cascaded, Blanche watched him, confident but anxious. She watched the graceful, docile sorrel plod its way up the familiar path. She saw it pause for a moment at the entrance to the tunnel, while Jim shifted his burden to a position of greater security. Then the beast stepped into the shallow flood, and splashing its way up the stream, became swallowed up by the darkness out of which the waters leapt.
With a sigh of relief she turned to Beelzebub and sprang into the saddle, to carry out her part in the arrangements. There were some twenty-odd miles of the gorge before she got back to Dan Quinlan’s valley, and after that a few more miles to the Marton farm. Her day had already been long, but she gave no thought to her own comfort. She was determined to do her utmost for Molly and for her brother.