"Eve," he said hoarsely, "be you hurted?"
The girl opened her sky-blue eyes.
"I'm all right, dad, … just tired. … I've got your parcel … safe …"
"To hell with the gol-dinged parcel," he almost sobbed; "—did Quintana harm you?"
"No, dad."
As he carried her to the veranda the packet fell from her cramped fingers. Clinch kicked it under a chair and continued on into the house and up the stairs to Eve's bedroom.
Flat on the bed, the girl opened her drowsy eyes again, unsmiling.
"Did that dirty louse misuse you?" demanded Clinch unsteadily. "G'wan tell me, girlie."
"He knocked me down. … He went away to get fire to make me talk. I cut up the blanket they gave me and made a rope. Then I went over the cliff into the big pine below. That was all, dad."
Clinch filled a tin basin and washed the girl's torn feet. When he had dried them he kissed them. She felt his unshaven lips trembling, heard him whimper for the first time in his life.