The Forfeit Part 48

Nan glanced helplessly about her. If only her father would return with the water! It might help her. She felt that she could not, could not tell him the things he was demanding of her.

But again came his demand, and in the tone of it was a sound of peevish impatience.

"What--happened--after--Nan? I need--to know."

"It all came of a rush. I can't just tell it right."

The man's eyes closed again. He remained silent so long that Nan's apprehensions reawakened. She even forgot her panic at his persistence.

"Jeff! Jeff!"

Her call to him was almost a whisper. But the man heard. His eyes opened at once.

"Yes, Nan?"

The girl laughed a little hysterically.

"I--I--was----"

"You thought I----"

"Yes, yes. But you are--better? Sure?"

The man's head turned deliberately toward her. There was astonishing vigor in the movement.

"Ther's things broke inside me, Nan," he said, in a voice that was growing stronger. "A rib, I guess. Maybe it's my shoulder. The others--guess they're just nothing. Now tell me--the things I asked.

How did you happen to git around? Start that way."

A sense of relief helped the girl. He had given her an opportunity which she seized upon.

"Oh, Jeff, it was just thanks to Evie. I guess she saved your life."

"How?"

The girl's enthusiasm received a set-back in his tone.

"She came right along over to us, and told us--everything--the moment you'd gone. We followed you just as hard as the horses could lay foot to the ground. Dad an' me, and six of the boys."

"What did Evie do?"

"She came along--too."

"Wher' is she?"

Nan made no answer. The question was repeated more sharply.

"Wher' is she?"

"She's under that red willow--yonder."

The girl's voice was low. Her words were little more than a whisper.

"Is she--hurt?"

"She's--dead."

At that moment Bud reappeared bearing a hat full clear river water.

Nan looked up.

"How can we give it him?" she questioned. Somehow the importance of the water had lessened in her mind.

Jeff answered the question himself.

"I don't need it, Bud," he said. Then he added as an afterthought: "Thanks."

Nan looked up at her father who stood doubtfully by.

"Set it down, Daddy. Then get right along an' look out for the doc, an' the wagon. Hustle 'em along."

Bud obeyed unquestioningly. He felt that Nan's understanding of the situation was better than any ideas of his. He set the hat down for the water to percolate through the soft felt at its leisure. Then he moved on.

The moment he was out of earshot Jeff's voice broke the silence once more.

"Nan?"

"Yes, Jeff?"

"Wher's the red willow? How far away?"

"A few yards."

"Can you help me up?" The question came after a long considering pause. It came with a certain eagerness.

But Nan remonstrated with all her might.

"No, no, Jeff," she cried, in serious alarm. "You mustn't. True you mustn't. It'll kill you to move now."

Her appeal was quite without effect.

"Then I'll have to do it myself."

Jeff's obstinate decision was immovable, and in the end the girl was forced to give way.

The sick man endured five minutes of the intensest agony in the effort required. Twice he nearly fainted, but, in the end, he stood beside the somewhat huddled figure under the red willow, gasping under the excruciation of internal pains.

"I can lie here, Nan," he said. "Will you--help me?"