How Dan had been insulted time and again and borne
it with a sort of childish stupidity. How finally the blow had been
struck. How Dan had crouched on the floor, laughing, and how a yellow
light gathered in his eyes.
At that, her mind went blank. When her thoughts returned she stood
alone in the room. The clatter of Morgan's galloping horse died
swiftly away down the road. She turned to Dan. Black Bart was crouched
at watch beside him. She kneeled again--lowered her head--heard the
faint but steady breathing. He seemed infinitely young--infinitely
weak and helpless. The whiteness of the bandage stared up at her like
an eye through the deepening gloom. All the mother in her nature came
to her eyes in tears.
CHAPTER VIII
RED WRITING
He stirred.
"Dan--dear!"
"My head," he muttered, "it sort of aches, Kate, as if--"
He was silent and she knew that he remembered.
"You're all right now, honey. I've come here to take care of you--I
won't leave you. Poor Dan!"
"How did you know?" he asked, the words trailing.
"Black Bart came for me."
"Good ol' Bart!"
The great wolf slunk closer, and licked the outstretched hand.
"Why, Kate, I'm on the floor and it's dark.
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