She looked up, at length, before she rose to her feet.
Thankfulness welled up warm in her heart to find her voice steady and
commonplace when she said: "The wound is much better. Bart will be well
in a very few days now."
Whistling Dan did not answer, and his wondering eyes glanced past her
own. She saw that he was staring at a double row of white indentations
on her forearm, where the teeth of Black Bart had set. He knew those
marks, and she knew he knew. Strength was leaving her, and weakness went
through her--water where blood should have been. She dared not stay. In
another moment she would be hopelessly in the grip of hysteria.
So she rose, and passed Dan without a word, and went slowly towards the
house. She tried to hurry, indeed, but her legs would not quicken their
pace. Yet at length she had reached shelter and no sooner was she past
the door of the house than her knees buckled; she had to steady herself
with both hands as she dragged herself up the stairs to her room. There,
from the window, she looked down and saw Whistling Dan standing as she
had left him, staring blankly at the wolf-dog.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE CONQUEST
There was no star-storming confidence in Kate Cumberland after that
first victory. Rather she felt as the general who deploys his
skirmishers and drives in the outposts of an enemy. The advantage is
his, but it has really only served to give him some intimation of the
strength of the enemy.
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