For there is
something watching and waiting in silence. In the living room the three
did not speak.
Now that the storm was gone they had allowed the fire to fall away
until the hearth showed merely fragmentary dances of flame and a wide
bed of dull red coals growing dimmer from moment to moment. Wung Lu had
brought in a lamp--a large lamp with a circular wick that cast a bright,
white light--but Kate had turned down the wick, and now it made only a
brief circle of yellow in one corner of the room. The main illumination
came from the fireplace and struck on the faces of Kate and Buck
Daniels, while Joe Cumberland, on the couch at the end of the room, was
only plainly visible when there was an extraordinarily high leap of the
dying flames; but usually his face was merely a glimmering hint in the
darkness--his face and the long hands which were folded upon his breast.
Often when the flames leapt there was a crackling of the embers and the
last of the log, and then the two nearer the fire would start and flash
a glance, of one accord, towards the prostrate figure on the couch.
That silence had lasted so long that when at length the dull voice of
Joe Cumberland broke in, there was a ring of a most prophetic solemnity
about it.
"He ain't come," said the old man. "Dan ain't here."
The others exchanged glances, but the eyes of Kate dropped sadly and
fastened again upon the hearth.
Buck Daniels cleared his throat like an orator.
Pages:
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332