Bo reeled in her seat.
“I'm n-near froze,” she replied, in a faint voice. Her face shone white in the starlight. Helen recognized that Bo was more than cold.
“Oh, Bo!” she called, in distress.
“Nell, don't you worry, now.”
“Let me carry you,” suggested Dale.
“No. I'll s-s-stick on this horse or d-die,” fiercely retorted Bo.
The two men looked up at her white face and then at each other. Then Roy walked away toward the dark bunch of horses off the road and Dale swung astride the one horse left.
“Keep close to me,” he said.
Bo fell in line and Helen brought up the rear.
Helen imagined she was near the end of a dream. Presently she would awaken with a start and see the pale walls of her little room at home, and hear the cherry branches brushing her window, and the old clarion-voiced cock proclaim the hour of dawn.