Alice exchanged glances with the outlaw. It was plain that he was in no danger from this dazed and weakened old man who could think of nothing but the loss of his sense of direction.
As the day advanced the sun burned clear. At noon it was warm enough to leave the door open, and Alice, catching glimpses of the flaming world of silver and purple and gold, was filled with a desire to quit her dark corner.
“I’m going to get up!” she exclaimed. “I won’t lie here any longer.”
“Don’t try it!” protested Peggy.
“I’m going to do it!” she insisted. “I can hobble to the door if you help me.”
“I’ll carry you,” said the outlaw. “Wrap her up and I’ll get her a seat.”
And so, while Mrs. Adams wrapped her patient in a blanket, the outlaw dragged one of the rough, ax-hewn benches to the door and covered it with blankets. He put a stone to heat and then re-entered just as Alice, supported by Peggy, was setting foot to the floor. Swiftly, unhesitatingly, and very tenderly he put his arms about her and lifted her to the bench in the doorway before the fire.
It was so sweet to feel that wondrous body in his arms. His daring to do it surprised her, but her own silent acquiescence, and the shiver of pleasure which came with the embarrassment of it, confused and troubled her.
“That’s better,” he said as he dropped to the ground and drew the blankets close about her feet. “I’ll have a hot stone for you in a minute.”
He went about these ministrations with an inward ecstasy which shone in his eyes and trembled in his voice. But as she furtively studied his face and observed the tremor of his hands in tender ministration she lost all fear of him.