"She's a whizzer," he said under his breath. "Got a heart like all outdoors. But that ankle ain't as bad as she makes out. Bet I can hop to the door an' back just as easy."
So, because he had been forbidden to budge, Loudon hoisted himself out of the chair, balanced on one leg, and hopped across the room. Holding himself upright by the door-jambs he peered out cautiously. He wished to assure himself that Mrs. Burr was well on her way to the store before proceeding farther on his travels around the kitchen.
Mrs. Burr was not in sight. Surely she could not have reached the corner so soon. Vaguely disturbed, Loudon kept one eye cocked down the street. His vigilance was rewarded by the emergence from the Mace doorway of both Mrs. Burr and Kate Saltoun. Mrs. Burr went on toward Main Street. Kate turned in his direction.
"Good Lord!" gurgled Loudon, despairingly. "She's a-comin' here!"
In a panic he turned, slipped, overbalanced, and his whole weight ground down hard on his sprained ankle. The most excruciating pain shot through his whole being. Then he toppled down in a dead faint.
When he recovered consciousness Kate's arm was around his shoulders, and Kate's voice was saying, "Drink this." Through a mist he saw Kate's face and her dark eyes with a pucker of worry between them.
"Drink this," repeated Kate, and Loudon drank from the glass she held to his lips.
The whisky cleared away the mist and injected new life into his veins. Ashamed of his weakness, he muttered hasty thanks, and essayed to rise.
"Don't move!" Kate commanded, sharply. "Hold still till I pull that chair over here."
"I can get up all right, Kate. I ain't hurt."