"Then—then he won't look for them here in the mountains?" Mary panted.
"Not for a while, anyway," Frazier returned. "And that is what I came to tell you, little woman. I'm no fool and I am going to do everything in my reach to keep the boys out of John's clutch till we can tell how Keith gets on. John and I have worked together in tracking men down, and he doesn't dream that I am against him in this. Thanks to me, he and his deputies are working on a false scent altogether, and I'll keep them at it if I turn the world over. You can depend on me, little girl. I'll keep you posted. The boys will be safe where they are for a while, if you will keep them fed."
"But do you think Keith will live?" Mary demanded, tremulously.
"The Lord only knows," Frazier said. "He is awfully low, it seems to me. I reckon there is no use fooling you as to that. You may get bad news any minute. But even if he dies we'll manage somehow to slip the boys away. I know a feller now in the West. I get letters from him. Fifteen years ago he shot a man in—"
"Don't, don't tell me about it!" Mary pleaded, her agonized eyes turning to Charles, as if for protection that was not available from any other source.
"No, what is the use of all that?" Charles blurted out.
"Don't chip in here!" Frazier thundered. "What do you mean by breaking into my talk? Get back to your work! Are you paid to stand here idle?"
There was nothing he could say, and Charles dropped his head for a moment. Mary was staring at him blankly. So vast was the tragedy hovering over her that she quite failed to sense the tension between the two men.
"Come on, let's go to the house," went on Frazier, continuing to scowl at Charles even while he was putting his arm about the girl. "I have to see your father about some money he wants to borrow at the bank. He wants me to indorse a note for him."
"You know what to do, Mr. Brown," Mary said. "It will take you several days to finish the cotton. After that we'll decide what next to do."