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"Wayland," he faltered feebly, "is this you? Lord, how my head aches! Send Sam to me with the hand-mirror and the perfumed soap." "Hush!" I answered, almost angry at his flippant utterance. "Sam is no doubt dead, and you and I alone are spared of all the company. Do you suffer greatly? Think you it would be possible to walk?"
Wayland rose next morning free from dizziness and almost free from pain, and when he came out of his room his expression was cheerful. "I feel as if I'd slept a week, and I'm hungry. I don't know why I should be, but I am." Mrs. McFarlane met him with something very intimate, something almost maternal in her look; but her words were as few and as restrained as ever.
Under Berrie's direction Wayland worked busily putting the camp equipment in proper parcels, taking no special thought of time till the tent was down and folded, the panniers filled and closed, and the fire carefully covered. Then the girl said: "I hope the horses haven't been stampeded. There are bears in this valley, and horses are afraid of bears. Father ought to have been back before this.
"Ay, ay," said Wayland, speaking at a venture; "and thou BACON, thou knowest." "Noa, noa," said the lad; "bide ye bide ye it was PEAS a should ha said." "Well, well," answered Wayland, "Peas be it, a God's name! though Bacon were the better password."
"No, sir, A'd be babbling and babbling about the sea! A fall asleep as we ride; an' when A wake from a doze, 'tisn't the sea of sand, 'tis the sea o' water that's about me! The yellow sea o' York Fort up Hudson Bay way where A took the boats from Saskatchewan." Wayland helped him to mount. "Aren't y' goin' to ride y'rself?" "No," answered Wayland. "I'm going to keep one horse fresh.
As the storm lessened she resumed the business of cooking the midday meal, and at two o'clock they were able to eat in comparative comfort, though the unmelted snow still covered the trees, and water dripped from the branches. "Isn't it beautiful!" exclaimed Wayland, with glowing boyish face. "The landscape is like a Christmas card.
Wayland tossed the soft felt from the pocket of his leather coat. "Oh, A saw 'em plain enough; same ill-lookin' six that y'r hell-kite laws hatch on a bad frontier! Make no mistake. Yon white vest is at the bottom o' this deviltry! Who is he, Wayland?" Wayland related the visit of a white-vest to his Ridge cabin; and they trotted forward towards a sheep wagon.
Wayland, indeed, strove to rouse him from his despondency, but without success, except that latterly he became willing to receive him." "Have you ever conversed with him?" There was an ingenuous blush as the young man replied. "I fear I must confess myself remiss. Mr.
You see, we started down here late yesterday afternoon. It was raining and horribly muddy, and I took the wrong trail. The darkness caught us and we didn't reach the station till nearly midnight." Wayland acknowledged his weakness. "I guess I made a mistake, Supervisor; I'm not fitted for this strenuous life." McFarlane was quick to understand.
Through the open windows, Eleanor could see that a great concourse of people was gathering outside. "When you found the body, was anyone else present at the top of the shaft?" For the fraction of a second, Eleanor wondered if they meant to cast suspicion on the Ranger. "Yes," answered Wayland, "the woman, Calamity was lying on the ground sobbing to break her heart. No one else was visible."
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