“That’s so,” she said, in a tone which plainly intimated that the question was not positively settled. “But it looks like a shame, for brother is powerful low, an’ any noise mought do ’im lots o’ harm.”
“I ’ll leave my men here, and go in myself,” compromised the officer. “I ’ll walk very lightly.”
The heart of the girl sank. She could still hear the crunching of her grandfather’s shoes in the cabin.
“I ’ll be much obleeged ef you will be careful,” she said. And as he started to the cabin she joined him. “Please go in here first,” pointing to the room across the entry from the one containing the two men, “an’ I ’ll run in an’ see ef brother is fit to be seen.”
He complied, with a bow, and went into the room indicated. Reappearing in a moment, he found her crouching down on the grass, a look of pain on her face.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, with concern.
“Nothin’,” she winced. “I set my foot on that rock an’ it kinder twisted my ankle.”
He gave her his hand and aided her to rise.
“Please wait jest one minute,” she said, putting her foot down tentatively. “I was in sech a hurry jest now that I almost broke my ankle-bone.”
He bowed assent. His eyes lit with admiration for her physical charms, and she limped around to the rear of the cabin and went in. Just as she did so the noise of her grandfather’s shoes on the floor ceased. The old man, thinking she was accompanied by the soldiers, was enacting his part. He had flung himself into a chair, and sat nodding as if asleep. On the bed of straw lay Ericson, still unconscious, completely clothed in blue uniform. The discarded gray suit lay in a bundle in a corner.