“Well... it is... I must ask you to consider the situation calmly. It is difficult.”
Boatwright felt the man's eyes on him, coolly surveying him. It did seem a bit absurd to be cautioning this strange being to be calm. Had he ever been otherwise? Here he was, roused abruptly from slumber, listening, and looking, like a judge. He said now with quick understanding:
“He is here?”
Boatwright's head inclined.
“How did he ever get through?”
“We haven't heard the details yet. There's so much else.... I want to make it plain to you that he isn't altogether himself. He has evidently been through a terrible experience. He was wounded. He has some fever now, I believe.... Let me put it this way. He has just now learned that you are here—-that you—”
“That I brought his daughter here?” The remark was cool, clear, decisive.
“Well—yes. Now please understand me. He isn't himself. The news shocked him. I could see that. My suggestion is—well, that you move over to the residence for the rest of the night.”
“Why?”
“You see—Mr. Doane asked where you might be found, in what tent. He has had no time to reflect over the situation. His present mood is—well, as I said, not normal. I've thought that to-morrow—after he has slept—some—we can prevail on him to consider it calmly.”