“I’ll remember,” she promised. “But you’re going to get well. Don’t talk, please.”
“Just one thing. What are you doing here?”
“I came to look after you. Now that’s all—please.”
He said no more, in words. But the eyes of sick men are like those of children. They tell the truth. From them is stripped the veil woven by time and the complexities of life.
Sounds of voices on the hillside drifted to the cabin. Betty’s heart leaped joyfully. Friends were at hand. It was too late now for Prowers to do any harm even if it was in his mind.
The voices approached the cabin. The girl recognized that of Merrick, strong and dominant and just a little heavy. She heard Black’s drawling answer, without being able to distinguish the words.
The door opened. Four men came into the room. The two who brought up the rear were Dr. Rayburn and Lon Forbes.
“Oh, Lon!” Betty cried, and went to him with a rush. “I’m awf’ly glad you came.”
She clung to him, trembling, a sob in her throat.
The rawboned foreman patted her shoulder with a touch of embarrassment. “There—there, honey, ’s all right. Why didn’t you wait for old Lon instead o’ hoppin’ away like you done?”