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Updated: July 13, 2025
His eyes found joy in the colour of the wood, which had all the graded, merging tints of Autumn leaves. "It is old and strange," he said, his eyes going from Berry to Ingolby and back again with a veiled look, as though he had drawn down blinds before his inmost thoughts. "It was not made by a professional."
"It's a fine day." "Yes, it's beautiful." Fleda wanted to ask how he knew, but hesitated from feelings of delicacy. Ingolby seemed to understand. A faint reflection of the old whimsical smile touched his lips, and his hands swept over the coverlet as though smoothing out a wrinkled map. "The blind man gets new senses," he said dreamily. "I feel things where I used to see them.
"There wasn't much more. Old Barbazon, the landlord, come in and they quit talking about it; but they said enough to send 'em to gaol for ten years." Ingolby blinked at Jowett reflectively, and his mouth gave a twist that lent to his face an almost droll look. "What good would it do if they got ten years or one year, if the bridge was blown up?
He had saved his friend's life by a most skilful operation, but he had been shocked beyond control when, an hour after the operation was over, and consciousness returned to the patient in the brilliantly lighted room, Ingolby said: "Why don't you turn on the light?" It was thus Rockwell knew that the Master Man, the friend of Lebanon and Manitou, was stone blind.
Yet something stirred in her which she had never felt before. She had come of a race of wayfarers, but the spirit of the builders touched her now. "What are my plans?" Ingolby drew along breath of satisfaction. "Well, just here where we are will be seen a great thing.
Ingolby grew suddenly very still. It was as though vague fear had seized him and held him in a vice. "What is it? What do you want to say to me?" he asked in a low, nerveless tone. "You've been hit hard, Chief. The ricochet has done you up for some time. The head will soon get well, but I'm far from sure about your eyes. You've got to have a specialist about them.
"Tekewani ah, Tekewani, you have come," the girl said, and her eyes smiled at him as they had not smiled at Ingolby or even at the woman in black beside her. "How!" the chief replied, and looked at her with searching, worshipping eyes. "Don't look at me that way, Tekewani," she said, coming close to him. "I had to do it, and I did it."
With an instinct all its own, it slipped to the floor. It watched its master get out of bed, cross the room and feel for a coat along the wall an overcoat which he used as a dressing-gown at times. Putting it on hastily, with outstretched hands Ingolby felt his way to the glass doors opening on the veranda. The dog, as though to let him know he was there, rubbed against his legs.
Two people, however, were cheerful; they were Ingolby and Jim. Jim went about the place humming a nigger melody to himself, and twice he brought Berry the barber to play to his Chief on the cottonfield fiddle.
The glowing eyes kept scanning the wall where the weapons hung, and as though without purpose other than to get a pipe from the rack on the wall, Ingolby moved to where he could be prepared for any rush. It seemed absurd that there should be such a possibility; but the world was full of strange things. "What brought you to the West?" he asked as he filled a pipe, his back almost against the wall.
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