“And can you hear the voices in the cañon? You have to be still a long time—and then, after a while, they get louder and louder, as if a great concourse of people were talking all at once.”
“You have a strange and weird conception, Miss Allison,” said Fair, “but I know what you mean. We hear them at night, Sonny and I.”
“And that’s what I want to speak about, Mr. Fair,” said Nance hesitatingly, “I’ve thought at nights about Sonny—alone—hearing the voices. Have you thought what it might mean to a child?”
The man smoked awhile in silence.
“Yes,” he said at last, “I have. But it seems unavoidable. I have no place else to leave him.”
“Leave him with me!” she cried, stretching out a hand imploringly, “Oh, leave him with me—please! I’d take such good care of him.”
But Brand Fair shook his head.
“It does not seem advisable, much as I appreciate your offer. I cannot tell you how much I do appreciate it—but—I don’t want any one to know that I have Sonny—that he is in the country at all.”
Nance gazed at him wonderingly.
“I don’t understand it,” she said slowly, “but you know best. Perhaps it is best that I don’t understand.”