He had not been shaved for at least three
days; a button hung by a thread upon his coat; there was a coffee
stain on the bosom of his shirt.
He looked so miserable, and so faint, and so buffeted about, that
the girl cried out, running from the door of the cabin to meet him.
The sweat of his hard effort stood on his brow, and he panted for
breath.
"I swan! Ida May--er--well, whoever you be, gal, let me set down!
I'm near spent, and that's a fact."
"Oh, Cap'n Ball, you should not have done this!" cried the girl,
letting him lean upon her and aiding him as rapidly as possible to
the cabin door. "You should not have done this. You--you can do
nothing for me. You can do no good by coming here."
"Humph! P'r'aps not. Mebbe you're right. Let me set down on that
box, gal," he muttered.
He eased himself down upon the rough seat against the wall. He
removed the cap with an effort and took his huge handkerchief from
its crown. He mopped his brow and face and finally heaved a huge
sigh.
"I swan! That was a pull," he said. "So you're settled here. Gone to
housekeeping on your own hook, have ye?" he said.
"Just for a little while, Cap'n Ira. Only--only until I can get
away. I--I have been expecting some money--payment of one of my
father's old bills.
Pages:
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347