The Miracle Man Part 27

"Oh, but really, I can walk."

"And I can carry you," he said--and, from the step, gathered her into his arms.

And then, as she lay there pa.s.sively at first, she seemed to sense again that curious diffidence, that gentleness, like the touch upon her throat of a little while ago, though now he held her in both his arms. How strong he was--and, oh, how miserably wet--her hand around his shoulder felt the thin shirt clinging soggily to his arm. Yes; she was glad he hadn't let her walk--it wasn't far, but she would have had to force her way continually through bushes that scattered showers from their dripping leaves, and underfoot she could hear his boots squash through the mud. And then suddenly it happened--the trees, just a yard or so from the fire, were thick together, tangled--she bent her head quickly, instinctively, to avoid a low-hanging branch as he for the same reason swerved a little--and their cheeks lay close-pressed against each other's, her hair sweeping his forehead, their lips mingling one another's breaths. He seemed to stumble--then his arms closed about her in a quick, fierce pressure, clasping her, straining her to him--relaxed as suddenly--and then he had set her down inside the shelter he had built.

Quick her breath was coming now, and across the fire for a moment she met his eyes. His face was gray, and his hands at his sides were clenched.

"I'll--I'll get the seat out of the car," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "It will help to make things more comfortable." And turning abruptly, he started back for the road again.

Helena did not move. Mechanically her eyes took in the little hut, crude, but rainproof at least--branches heaped across two forked limbs for a roof; the trunk of a big tree for the rear wall; branches thrust upright into the ground for the sides--the whole a little triangular shaped affair. The fire blazed in front just within shelter at the entrance; and beside it was piled quite a little heap of fuel that he had gathered.

He came back bringing the leather upholstered seat, shook the rain from it, and dried it with the help of the fire and his handkerchief--then set it down inside the hut. His face was turned from her; and as he spoke, breaking an awkward silence, his voice was conscious, hurried.

"I'm not going to be gone a minute more than I can help, Miss Vail. It's mighty rough accommodation for you, but there's one consolation at least--you'll be perfectly safe."

Helena seated herself, and held her skirt to the fire.

"Gone!" she said, a little dully. "Where are you going?"

"Why, to get help of course," he told her.

"Help!"--she shook her head. "You don't know where to find any--you only know for a certainty that there isn't any within miles."

"I know there's a house back on the main road," he said. "I noticed it as we came along."

"That's seven or eight miles from here," she returned. "And it's raining harder than ever--mud up to your ankles--it would take you hours to reach it."

"Possibly two, or two and a half," he said lightly.

"Yes; and another two at least to get back. I won't hear of you doing any such thing--you are wet through now. It's far better to wait for daylight and then probably the storm will be over."

"But don't you see, Miss Vail"--his voice was suddenly grave, masterful--"don't you see that there is no other thing to do?"

"No," said Helena. "I don't see anything of the kind. I won't have you do anything like that for me--it's not to be thought of."

Thornton stooped, placed a knot upon the fire, straightened up--and faced her.

"It's awfully good of you to think of me," he said in a low tone; "but, really, it won't be half as bad as you are picturing it in your mind.

And really"--he hesitated, fumbling for his words--"you see--that is--what other people might say--your--reputation--"

With a sudden cry, white-faced, Helena was on her feet, staring at him, her hands clutched at her bosom--a wild, demoniacal, mocking orgy in her soul. Her reputation! It seemed she wanted to scream out the words--_her reputation_!

Thornton's face flushed with a quick-sweeping flood of crimson.

"I'm a brute--a brute with a blundering tongue!" he cried miserably.

"You had not thought of that--and I made you. I could have found another excuse for going if I had only had wit enough. I was a brute once before to-night, and--" He stopped, and for a moment stood there looking at her, stood in the firelight, his face white again even in the ruddy glow--and then he was gone.

Time pa.s.sed without meaning to Helena. The steady patter of the rain was on the leaves, the sullen, constant drip of water to the ground, and now, occasionally, a rush of wind, a heavier downpour. She sat before the fire, staring into it, her elbows on her knees, her face held tightly in her hands, the brown hair, wet and wayward now, about her temples. Once she moved, once her eyes changed their direction--to fix upon her sleeve in a strange, questioning surprise.

"I let him go without his coat," she said.

--XVIII--

THE BOOMERANG

It was early afternoon, as Madison, emerging from the wagon track, and walking slowly, started across the lawn toward the Patriarch's cottage.

He was in a mood that he made no attempt to define--except that it wasn't a very pleasant mood. Before Thornton had returned to Needley it had been bad enough, after that, with his infernal car, it had been--h.e.l.l.

Madison's fists clenched, and his gray eyes glinted angrily. His hands had been tied like a baby's--like a d.a.m.ned infant's! Helena was getting away from him further every day, and he couldn't stop it--without stopping the game! He couldn't tell Thornton that Helena belonged to him--had belonged to him! He couldn't even evidence an interest in what was going on. He had to put on a front, a suave, cordial, dignified front before Thornton--while he itched to smash the other's face to pulp! h.e.l.l--that's what it was--pure, unadulterated h.e.l.l! He couldn't get near Helena alone with a ten-foot pole, morning, noon or night--she had taken good care of that. And he wanted Helena--he _wanted_ her! It was an obsession with him now--at times driving him half crazy,--and it didn't help any that he saw her grow more glorious, more beautiful every day! Of course she knew she had him--had him where she knew he couldn't do a thing--where she could laugh at him--go the limit with Thornton if she liked. But, curse it, it wasn't only Thornton--that was what he could not understand--she had begun to keep away from him before ever Thornton had come back.

Madison was near the porch now, and, raising his eyes, noted a supplicant going into the shrine-room--a woman, richly dressed but in widow's weeds, who walked feebly. The game went on by itself, once started--there were half a hundred more about the lawn! Like a s...o...b..ll rolling down hill, as he had put it at the Roost. The Roost! If he only had Helena back there for about a minute there'd be an end of this!

She'd go a little too far one of these days--a little too far--it was pretty near far enough now--and then there'd be a showdown, game or no game, and somebody would get hurt in the smash, and--

He lifted his eyes again, as some one came hurrying through the cottage door. It was the Flopper. And then to his surprise, he found himself being pushed unceremoniously from the porch and pulled excitedly behind the trellis.

"What's the matter with you!" he demanded angrily. "Are you crazy!"

"T'ank de Lord youse have showed up!" gasped the Flopper. "Say, honest, I can't do nothin' wid him--he's got me near bughouse."

"Who?"--Madison scowled irritably.

"De Patriarch, of course. He's noivous, an' gettin' worse all de time.

He won't eat an' he won't keep still. He wants Helena, an' he keeps writin' her name on de slate--he's got me going fer fair."

"Well, I'm not Helena!" growled Madison. "Why doesn't she go to him?"

"Now wouldn't dat sting youse!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Flopper. "How's she goin'

to him when she ain't here?"

"Not here?" repeated Madison sharply. "Where is she?"

The Flopper looked down his nose.

"I dunno," said he.

Madison stared at him for a moment--then he reached out and caught the Flopper's arm in a sudden and far from gentle grip.

"Out with it!" he snapped.

"I dunno where she is," said the Flopper, with some reluctance. "She ain't back yet, dat's all."

"Back from where?"--Madison's grip tightened.

The Flopper blinked.