Blake attempted a careless laugh. “Don’t worry about me. I’m here, O. K., all that’s left,–a little wobbly on my pins, but hungry as a shark. But say, what’s up with you? You’re sweating like a– Good thing, though. It’ll stave off your spell of fever a while. How ’d you happen to be coming down here so early?”
“I was starting to find you.”
“Me!”
“Not you–that is, I thought you were dead. I was going to make certain, and to–to get the burning-glass.”
“Um-m. I see. Let the fire go out, eh?”
“Do not blame me, Mr. Blake! I was so ill and worn out, and I’ve paid for it twice over, really I have. Didn’t those awful beasts attack you?”
“Beasts? How’s that?” he demanded.
“Oh, but you must have heard them! The horrid things tried to kill us!” she cried, and she poured out a half incoherent account of all that had happened since he left.
Blake listened intently, his jaw thrust out, his eyes glowing upon her with a look which she had never before seen in any man’s eyes. But his first comment had nothing to do with her conduct.
“How’s that?–sorry Win got rousted out of his nice little snooze– Snooze! Why, don’t you know, we’d been all alone in our glory by to-night if it hadn’t been for those brutes. He was in the stupor, and that would have been the end of him if the beasts hadn’t stirred him up so lively. I’ve heard of such a thing before, but I always thought it was a fake. Here you are sweating, too.”