"Now, Steve, I'm all upset and unstrung. That's the reason I came in here. I've got to get my wits about me again, or I can't plan anything."
"Sit down and read."
"Read? Do you suppose I could do that just now? Why, Steve, I've found my little daughter."
"So you have. I don't wonder you're excited. I am myself. Here, give me a magazine. I'd like to find out how much of my reading will come back."
Murray handed him one and Steve sat down. He had been fond of books in the days before he was captured by the Lipans. He had not forgotten his reading at all, and it came back to him in a way that made his heart jump. But that was after he had made a great effort, and driven away the faces of Rita and Ni-ha-be.
Both of them would somehow come between his eyes and the paper of those printed pages at first. Both of them were such nice, pretty, well-behaved girls, and yet one of them was white, the daughter of his friend Murray, and the other was only a poor little squaw of the Apaches.
Murray picked up a magazine and sat down. "It will do for a sort of medicine," he muttered. "I may learn something from it, too. The world has changed a great deal since I have had newspapers or magazines to read. There may be some new nations in it for all I know, and there surely must be a new lot of Kings and Queens and Presidents, and all that sort of thing."
It was that thought which made him turn over a little carelessly all the illustrated articles and the stories until he came to the "news of the month" among the Leaves at the end.
There he began actually to read and read closely, for it was all new to him, although the magazine in question was several months old. There was a good deal told in a short space, for the editor had condensed everything into the fewest words possible.
At the same time, it must have been a remarkable news item that could make a man of steady nerve bound suddenly to his feet, and hold that magazine out at arm's-length.