Without another word he lifted the prostrate figure into his arms, and carried her into the shanty. Arrived safely inside—he had to bend almost double to enter the doorway—be laid her on his bed, and threw a blanket over her.
Then he took up his own tin mug of brandy, found that it was half full, and forced a little between the white lips.
The effect was swift and almost magical. A little faint colour stole into her cheeks, and she opened her eyes.
“Guess I’m starved!” she remarked, with a slight uplifting of the eyelids. “Got anything to eat?”
Her eyes wandered round the place hungrily. The Englishman stood still and considered for a moment. Then he struck a match and lit an oil stove, opened a tin of beef extract, and in a few minutes had a steaming cup full of the liquid. He brought it to her side, and she clutched it eagerly.
“Drink it slowly!” he advised. “That’s the style! Good God!”
He went out into the darkness, and returned in a few minutes with a pail of water. Then he turned up his shirtsleeves, and taking her shapely little feet into his great hands, bathed them carefully while she lay quite still with half closed eyes. When he had finished, he lit his pipe, and sat down by her side.
“Don’t hurry, Myra!” he said, leaning back against the wall, and thrusting his hands into his pockets. “Don’t talk at all unless you feel like it! More beef tea, eh? There, just a drop! That’s right!”
He held the cup to her lips, and then set it down.
“If you feel like going right off to sleep, why, off you go!” he said. “You can tell me all about it in the morning!”
He spoke cheerfully, but there was an undercurrent of anxiety in his tone which the girl’s quick ears detected. Henceforth she watched him furtively out of her big dark eyes, filled now with a fresh alarm.
“I’d as lief tell you now!” she said. “I’m rested!”
“That’s capital! Well, how did you get here all by yourself? That’s what I want to know.”
A little note of triumph crept into the girl’s tone. She watched her companion carefully to see what effect her words had upon him.
“I came on a mule half the way, Bryan. He died four days ago, and since then I have been walking!”
“You came on a mule!” the Englishman repeated bewildered. “Where from?”
“From San Francisco, of course!”
“My God!”
He looked at her in admiration tempered with wonder. She had expected this, and was gratified.
“Yes! You didn’t think I was plucky enough for that, I guess! It’s been pretty bad—worse than I thought it would be, when I started. I didn’t mind so much until Johnny—that was my mule—died. He seemed sorter company, and he was a real good one. Afterwards it got lonesome, and the nights were so dark and long, I was scared sometimes. I used to lie quite still, with my face turned to the east, and as soon as the first streak of light came I could go to sleep. Then, the day before yesterday, I finished up all the food I had! I don’t believe I want to talk about the time since then,” she concluded, with a little shiver. “I guess I won’t, anyway!”
He sat and looked at her for a moment without speaking. He was not a man of quick comprehension, and the thing amazed him.
“Five hundred miles all alone, and a beastly rough track too,” he said at last. “Why, child, it seems impossible. And why on earth have you come?”
The colour rushed into her dusky cheeks, and her eyes, soft and dark now that the gleam of famine had fled, filled with tears.
“You—you are not glad to see me!” she exclaimed piteously.
He was not. That was a fact. But he began to see that it would not do to let her know it. He swore a great inward oath, but he leaned over and took her hand as tenderly as he could.
“Of course I’m glad, Myra! If you knew how beastly dull it was here, month after month with never a soul to speak to, you wouldn’t wonder at that. But what beats me is, why you’ve come! You haven’t risked your life to come to such a picnic as we’re having out here! You’ve got a reason for coming!”
She nodded, with her eyes anxiously fixed upon him. “Yes! I’ve brought you something. Guess what!” His expression changed. A sudden light leaped into his eyes.
“Is it a letter?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He held out his hand.
“Where is it?
“Give me a knife and I will get it,” she answered.
He handed her one. She felt up one side of her tattered coat, and cut a little slit near the shoulder. Through the opening she drew a long envelope, and held it out to him; her lips slightly parted, and her eyes eagerly watching for his approval.
He took it into his hand and looked at it almost as though he feared to break the seal. It was yellow with age, and the postmark was ancient. He looked from it into the girl’s face. Her eyes were full of tears.
“You are not glad that I brought it,” she faltered. “It isn’t of any importance after all. You haven’t thanked me, you haven’t said a single kind word to me, and—and you haven’t even kissed me! I—I wish I had died and not got here at all!” she wound up with a little sob.
He passed his arm around her waist and drew her lips to his.
“There, don’t cry, Myra,” he said kindly. “I’m not an eloquent chap, you know, and I was kind of dazed. You’re a regular brick, little woman, to bring me that letter. I don’t believe there’s another girl in the States would have had so much pluck. Cheer up now, do. Of course I’m glad to see you. You know that.”
She listened to him eagerly, and gave a little sigh of relief. Then she swept the tears away, and smiled up at him faintly.
“I think I was pretty glad to have an excuse to come,” she whispered in his ear. “I was weary of waiting for you to come back, and—oh, it was all such a bother. I would sooner have died than gone back to the old life, the life from which you saved me, Bryan. It was all horrid. Oh, aren’t I glad I’m here! You won’t send me back, will you?” she exclaimed, in sudden alarm.
“We’ll talk about that in the morning,” he answered. “I haven’t read my letter yet. I may not be stopping here myself much longer.”
“Say that I may stay as long as you do,” she persisted. “Tell me that when you go, you will take me with you. Just let me hear you say that, and I won’t worry you any more. I’ll do everything you tell me. You say that.”
He frowned and looked away from her great eager eyes on to the floor. Here was a pretty mess for him. What could he say to her?
“You’ll have to be reasonable, Myra,” he said slowly. “I don’t see how you can stop. What
