Play the Game! by Ruth Comfort Mitchell
CHAPTER XV
They would not leave her alone. Carter came to stay with her and shesent him away, and then Madeline King came, her very blue eyes redrimmed and deep with understanding, but Honor could not talk with hernor listen to her. She went away, shaking her head, and Josita came inher place. Honor did not mind the little Mexican serving woman. She didnot try to talk to her. She just crouched on the floor at her feet andprayers slipped from her tongue and her fingers:
_Padre Nuestra qui estas en los cielos--_
and presently:
_Santa Maria--_
Honor found herself listening a little scornfully. Was there indeed aFather in the heavens or anywhere else who concerned Himself aboutthings like this? Josita seemed to think so. She was in terror, but shewas clinging to something ... somewhere.... Honor decided that she didnot mind the murmur of her voice; she could go on with her thinking justthe same. _Jimsy._ _Jimsy King_--Jimsy--"Wild"--King. What was she goingto do? What had she promised Stepper that day on the way to the train?It all came back to her like a scene on the screen--the busystreets--the feel of the wheel in her hands again--Stepper's slowvoice--"But, if the worst should be true, if the boy really has gone topieces, you won't marry him?" And her own words--"No; if Jimsy shouldbe--like his father--I wouldn't marry him, Stepper. There shouldn't beany _more_ 'Wild Kings.'"
That was her promise to her stepfather, her best friend. But what hadbeen her promise to Jimsy, that day on the shore below the Malibou Ranchwhen they sat in the little pocket of rocks and sand and sun, and he hadgiven her the ring with the clasped hands? Hadn't she said--"I dobelieve you, Jimsy. I'll never stop believing you!" Yes, but how was sheto go on believing that he would not do the thing she saw him do? Howcompass that? Her love and loyalty began to fling themselves againstthat solid wall of ugly fact and to fall back, bruised, breathless.
Jimsy King of the hard muscles and winged heels, the essence ofstrength and sunny power; Jimsy King, collapsed in the arms of YaquiJuan, failing her in the hour of her direst need. Jimsy, her lover, whohad promised her she should never go alive into those dark and terriblehands ... Jimsy, who could not lift a finger now to defend her, or toput her beyond their grasp. It became intolerable to sit still. Shesprang up and began to walk swiftly from wall to wall of the big room,her heels tapping sharply on the smooth red tiles. Josita liftedmournful eyes to stare at her for an instant and then returned to herbeads. Honor paused and looked out of the window. She could see nothingthrough the inky blackness. Perhaps Yaqui Juan was creeping back to themnow, the canteens of precious water hung about his neck,--and perhaps hewas dead. There had been no shots, but they would not necessarily shoothim. There were other ... awfuller ways. And Jimsy King was asleep. Whatwould he be like when he wakened, when he came to himself again? Couldhe ever face her? Would he _live_?... And suppose she cast himoff,--then, what? She would go back to Italy, to the mountainous_Signorina_. She would embrace her warmly and there would emanate fromher the faint odor of expensive soap and rare and costly scents, andshe would pat her with a puffy hand and say--"So, my good small one? Thesun has set, no? Ah, then, it does not signify whether one feel joy orsorrow, so long as one feels. To feel ... that is to live, and to liveis to sing!" And she would go to work again, and sing in concert, andtake the place offered to her in the opera. And some day, when she wentfor a holiday to Switzerland (she supposed she would still go onholidays; people did, no matter what had happened to them) she wouldmeet Ethel Bruce-Drummond, hale and frank as the wind off the snow, andshe would say--"But where's your boy? I say, you haven't thrown himover, have you?"
Well, could you throw over what fell away from you? Could you? Sherealized that she was gripping the old ring with the thumb and fingersof her right hand, literally "holding hard." Was this what James Kinghad meant? Had Jeanie King, Jimsy's firm-chinned Scotch mother who sonearly saved her man, had she held on in times like this? Surely no"Wild King" had ever failed his woman as Jimsy had failed her, in theface of such hideous danger. But did that absolve her? After all (herlove and loyalty flung themselves again against the wall and it seemedto give, to sway) _was_ it Jimsy who had failed her? Wasn't it thetaint in his blood, the dead hands reaching up out of the grave, thecruel certainty that had hemmed him in all his days,--the bitterman-made law that he must follow in the unsteady footsteps of hisforbears?
It wasn't Jimsy! Not _himself_; not the real boy, not the real man. Itwas the pitiful counterpart of him. The real Jimsy was there,underneath, buried for the moment,--buried forever unless she stood by!(The wall was swaying now, giving way, crumbling.) Her pride in him wasgone, perhaps, and something of her triumphant faith, but her loyaltywas there and her love was there, bruised and battered and breathless;not the rosy, untried, laughing love of that far-away day in the sandand sun; a grave love, scarred, weary, argus-eyed. (The wall was downnow, a heap of stones and mortar.) She went upstairs to Jimsy's room andknocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, and afteran instant she tried to open it. It was locked, and she could not rousehim, and a sense of bodily sickness overcame her for the moment.
Madeline King came out of her husband's room and hurried to her. "Ah, Iwouldn't, my dear," she said. "Wait until he--wait a little while." Sheput her arm about her and pulled her gently away.
"I'll wait," said Honor in her rasping whisper. "I'll wait for him, nomatter how long it is."
The Englishwoman's eyes filled. "My dear!" she said. "Do you mindsitting with Richard a few moments? I find it steadies me to move abouta bit."
"Of course I'll sit with him," said Honor, docilely, "but I'll always bewaiting for Jimsy." She sat down beside Richard King and took up thefan.
"He's been better ever since that bit of water," said his wife,thankfully. "And Juan will fetch us more! Good soul! If ever we come outof this, Rich' must do something very splendid for him."
Carter went down into the _sala_. Honor had asked him to leave her, buthe found that he could not stay away from her; the remembrance of hereyes when she looked at Jimsy was intolerable in the loneliness of hisown room. The big living room was empty but he supposed Honor would beback presently, and he sat down in an easy chair and leaned his headback and stared at the ceiling. He had arrived, very nearly, at the endof his endurance. He knew it himself and he was husbanding his failingstrength as best he could. All his life, at times of illness or stress,he had been subject to fainting fits; miraculously, in these dreadfuldays, he had not fainted once, but now waves were rising about him,almost submerging him. If the Indian came soon with the water ... if hecould once drink his fill ... if he could drink even a few drops ... hecould hold out. But the Indian had been gone for more than an hour, andthere was grave doubt of his ever coming back.
His eyes, skimming the ceiling, dropped to the shelves of books whichran about the room and rose almost to meet it. They came to a startledhalt on a vase of ferns on a high shelf. A vase of ferns. There musthave been water in it. _Perhaps there was water in it now!_ He was soweak that it was a tremendous effort for him to drag himself out of hischair and across the room, to climb up on the book ladder and reach forit. He grew so dizzy that it seemed as if he must drop it. He shook it._Water!_ He lifted out the ferns and looked. It was almost full. Hestood there with it in his hand, his eyes on the doors. He wanted withall his heart to call Honor, to share it. His heart and his mind wantedto call her, but his hands lifted the vase to his dry lips and he drankin great gulps. He stopped himself before he was half satisfied. He wasequal to that. Then he put the ferns back in the vase and the vase backon the shelf and went into the hall and called upstairs to her.
Honor came at once. "Oh, Carter, has Juan come?"
"No, not yet! But I think--I hope--I've made a discovery! Look!" Hepointed to the vase.
She caught her breath. "There might be water in it?"
"Yes, I'm sure there is." Again, more steadily this time, he mounted thelittle sliding book ladder and reached for the vase, and Honor stoodwatching him with
"_Water?_" she whispered.
He nodded solemnly, shaking the tall vase for her to hear the hearteningsound of it. When he stood on the floor he held it toward her. "Youfirst, Honor."
"No." She was trembling. "We'll pour it out into a pitcher. If there'senough to divide, we'll all have some. If there's just a little, we'llgive it to Mr. King." She went away, walking a little unsteadily,putting out a hand here and there against the wall or the back of achair, and in a moment she came back with a tall glass pitcher."Careful, Cartie ... mustn't spill a drop...."
There was less than a cupful of dark, stale water, with bits of fernfronds floating in it.
"Only enough for him," said Honor, her chin quivering. "Oh, Cartie, I'mso thirsty ... so crazy thirsty...."
"You must take it yourself," said Carter, sternly. "Every drop." He heldthe pitcher up to her.
Honor hesitated. "Cartie, I couldn't trust myself to drink it out of thepitcher ... I'm afraid ... but I'll pour out about two teaspoonfuls foreach of us...." She poured an inch of water into a tiny glass. "Youfirst, Carter."
"No," said Carter, "I'm not going to touch it. It's for you and theKings."
"Carter! You're wonderful!" She drank her pitiful portion in three sips."There ... now you, please, Cartie! Just one swallow!"
But Carter shook his head. "No; I don't need it. Shall I take this toMrs. King?"
"Yes." Her sad eyes knighted him.
Carter took the pitcher of water to Mrs. King without touching a drop ofit and helped her to strain the fern bits out of it through ahandkerchief before she began to give it to her husband in spoonfuls.With the first sip he ceased his uneasy murmuring and she smiled up atthe boy. "Thank you, Carter. It's very splendid of you. Won't you take asip for yourself?"
Carter said he did not need it.
"You do look fresher, really. You've stood this thing extraordinarilywell. Did you give Honor some?"
"She would take only a taste."
Madeline King's eyes filled. "This is a black night for her, Carter. Thethirst--and the _insurrectos_--are the least of it for Honor."
Carter's eyes were bleak. "But she had to know it some time. She had tofind it out, sooner or later. She couldn't have gone on with it, Mrs.King."
She sighed. "I never was so astounded, so disappointed in all my life.One simply cannot take it in. He has been so absolutely steady eversince he came down,--and so fine all through this trouble! And to failus now, when we need him so,--with Honor in such danger--" She gave herhusband the last of the water and then laid on his forehead the damphandkerchief through which she had strained it. "It will break hisuncle's heart. He was no end proud of him."
"She had to know it some time," said Carter, stubbornly. "Is thereanything I can do, Mrs. King?"
"Nothing, Carter."
"Then I'll go back to Honor."
Something in his expression, in the way his dry lips said it, made thewoman smile pityingly. "Carter, I--I'm frightfully sorry for you, too."
He drew himself up with something of the old concealing pride. "I'mquite all right, thank you."
She was not rebuffed. "You are quite all wretched," she said, "you poorlad, and I'm no end sorry, but--Carter, don't think this ill wind ofJimsy's will blow you any good."
He flushed hotly through his strained pallor.
"Ah," said the Englishwoman, gently, "you were counting on it. It's nogood, Carter. It's no good. Not with Honor Carmody."
Carter did not answer her in words but there was angry denial in thetilt of his head as he limped away, and she looked after him sadly.
He found Honor limply relaxed in a long wicker chair. "Carter," shewhispered, "I wish I'd asked you to give Jimsy a taste of that water."
"You think he deserves it?" He couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice.
"No," she answered him honestly. "I don't think he deserves it ... buthe needs it."
The words repeated themselves over and over in the other's mind. Hedidn't deserve it, but he needed it. That was the way--the weak,sentimental, womanish way in which she would reason it out aboutherself, he supposed ... Jimsy King didn't deserve her, but he neededher. He was deep in his bitter reflections when he realized that shewas speaking to him.
"Cartie, I must tell you how fine I think you are! You were splendid ...about the water ... not taking any ... when I know how you'resuffering." She had to speak slowly, and if Stephen Lorimer had stoodout in the hall he would never have recognized his Top Step's voice. "Ofcourse we believe help is coming ... that we'll be safe in a few hours... but because we may not be ... this is the time for telling thetruth, isn't it, Carter? I want to tell you ... how I respect you....Once I said you were weak, when I was angry at you.... But now I knowyou're strong ... stronger than--Jimsy ... with the best kind ofstrength. I want you to know that I know that, Carty."
"_Honor_!" The truth and the lie spun round and round in his achinghead; he _was_ stronger than Jimsy King; he hadn't made a drunken beastof himself; suppose he had taken the first sip of the water?--He hadn'ttaken it all. He was a better man than Jimsy King. He made a swiftmotion toward her, saying her name brokenly in his choked voice, but hecrumpled suddenly and slid from his chair to the floor and was still.
Honor flew to the foot of the stairs and called Mrs. King. "Carter hasfainted! Will you help me?"
Mrs. King called the Mexican guard in from the porch to lift him to thecouch, and she and the girl fanned him and chafed his thin wrists. Whenhe came to himself he was intensely chagrined. "I'm all right," he saidimpatiently, sitting up. "I wish you wouldn't bother."
"Lie still for a bit," said Mrs. King. "You've had a nasty faint."
Honor saw his painful flush. "Cartie, it's no wonder you fainted,--Ifeel as if I might, any minute. And I did nearly faint once, didn't I,Mrs. King? The day I arrived here--remember?" She remembered all tookeenly herself ... the instant of relaxed blackness that followed on thesound of Richard King's hearty voice--"Why, the boy's all right!Ab-so-lutely all right! Isn't he, Madeline? Steady as a clock. Thatcollege nonsense--" And the contrast between that day of faithtriumphant and this dark night was so sharp and cruel that she could nottalk any more, even to comfort Carter. They were all silent, so thatthey clearly heard the unlocking, the opening, the closing of the doorof Jimsy's room, and then a step--a swift, sure step upon the stair.
Then Yaqui Juan walked into the _sala_.
"_Juan!_" They sprang at him, galvanized into life and vigor at thesight of him. But he stood still, staring at them with a look of scornand dislike, his arms folded across his chest.
"_Juan_," Mrs. King faltered,--"_no agua_?" It was incredible. He wasback, safely back, untouched, not even breathing hard. Where was thewater he had risked his life to bring them? The Englishwoman began tocry, childishly, whimpering. "I can't bear it ... I can't bear it ... Iwanted it for Rich' ... for Rich'!"
The Indian did not speak, but his scornful, accusing eyes, raking themall, came to rest on Honor, fixing her with pitiless intensity.
The girl was shaking so that she could hardly stand; she caught hold ofthe back of a tall chair to steady herself. "Juan,--you came out ofSenor Don Diego's room?" she whispered.
"_Si, Senorita._" He was watching the dawning light in her face, but thesternness of his own did not soften.
"You didn't go at all," wept Mrs. King, rocking to and fro and wringingher hands. "You didn't go at all!"
"_No, Senora._"
Honor Carmody screamed, a hoarse, exultant shout. It was as she hadscreamed in the old good days when Jimsy King, the ball clutched to hisside, tore down the field and went over the line for a touchdown. "Jimsywent! Jimsy went! _Jimsy went!_ It was Jimsy! _Jimsy!_" She flung herarms over her head, swaying unsteadily on her feet. Tears streamed fromher eyes and ran down over her white cheeks and into her parched mouth.In that instant there was room for no fear, no terror; they would comelater, frantic, unbearable. Now there was only pride, pride and faithand clean
"How could he?" said Carter Van Meter. "It was impossible--in thatcondition! Honor, he couldn't----"
But Yaqui Juan strode to the little table where the empty decanterstood, stooped, picked up a rough jug of decorative Mexican pottery froman under shelf. Then, pausing until he saw that all their eyes were uponhim, he slowly poured its contents back into the decanter. The liquorrose and rose until it reached the exact spot which Carter had pointedout to Honor--the top of the design engraved on the glass. "_Mira_!"said the Indian, sternly.
"_God_," said Carter Van Meter.
"He was acting! He was acting!" wept Mrs. King.
But Jimsy's Skipper sat on the floor, waving her arms, swaying her bodylike a yell leader, still shouting his name in her cracked voice, andthen, crazily, her eyes wide as if she visualized a field, far away, agame, a gallant figure speeding to victory, she sang:
_You can't beat L. A. High!_ _You can't beat L. A. High!_ _Use your team to get up steam_ _But you cant beat L. A. High!_
CHAPTER XVI
The Indian looked at Honor and the bitterness in his eyes melted alittle. "_Esta una loca_," he said.
It was quite true. She was a madwoman for the moment. They tried tocontrol her, to calm her, but she did not see or hear them. "Let heralone," said Mrs. King. "At least she is happy, Carter. She'll realizehis danger in a minute, poor thing." She turned to Yaqui Juan at thesound of his voice. He told her that he was going out after his younglord. He was going to find Senor Don Diego, alive or dead. He hadpromised him not to leave the locked room for two hours; he had kept hisword as long as he could endure it. Senor Don Diego had had time to comeback unless he had been captured. Now he, Yaqui Juan, whom the youngmaster had once saved, would go to him, to bring him back, or to diewith him. The solemn, grandiloquent words had nothing of melodrama inthem, falling from his grave lips. He took no pains to conceal his deepscorn for them all.
Madeline King thought of her husband, wounded, helpless. "Oh,Juan--must you leave us? If--if something has happened to him it onlymeans your life, too!"
"_Voy_!" said the Indian, "_I go_!" He turned and looked again at Honor,this time with a warming pity in his bronze face. "_I will bring backyour man, Senorita_," he said in Spanish. "And this great strongone"--he pierced Carter through with his black gaze--"shall guard youtill I come again." Then he smiled and flung at him that stingingSpanish proverb which runs, "In the country of the blind the one-eyedman is king!" Then he went out of the house, dropping to his hands andknees, hugging the shadows, creeping along the tunnel of tropic greenwhich led to the ancient well.
Honor stopped her wild singing and shouting then, but she still sat onthe floor, striking her hands softly together, her dry lips parted in asmile of utter peace.
"Come, Honor, take this chair!" Carter urged her, bending over her.
"I don't want a chair, Cartie," she said, gently. "I'm just waiting forJimsy." She looked up and caught the expression on Madeline King's face."Oh, you mustn't worry," she said, contentedly. "He'll bring him back.Yaqui Juan will. He'll bring him back _safe_. Why, what kind of a Godwould that be?--To let anything happen to him, _now_?" Her defense wasimpregnable.
"Let her alone," said Mrs. King again. "She'll realize, soon enough,poor child. Stay with her, Carter. I must go back to my husband." Shewent away with a backward, pitying glance which yet held understanding.She knew that danger and death and thirst were smaller things thanshame, this wife of a King who had held hard in her day.
Carter sat down and watched her drearily. He wasn't thinking now. He wasnothing at all but one burning, choking thirst, one aching resentment... Jimsy King, who had won, after all ... who had won alive or dead.
Honor was silent for the most part but she was wholly serene. Sometimesshe spoke and her speech was harder to hear than her happy stillness."You know, Cartie, I can be glad it happened." She seemed to speak moreeasily now, almost as if her thirst had been slaked; her voice wasclearer, steadier. "I should never have known how much I cared. It waseasy enough, wasn't it, to look at my ring and talk about 'holding hard'when there wasn't really anything to hold _for_? I really found outabout caring to-night ... what it means. I guess I never really lovedhim before to-night, Carter." She was not looking at him, hardly talkingto him; she seemed rather to be thinking aloud. Even if she had lookedhim full in the face she would not have realized what she was doing tohim; there was only one realization for her now. "I guess I just lovedwhat he _was_--his glorious body and his eyes and the way his hair_will_ wave--and what he could _do_--the winning, the people cheeringhim. But to-night, when I thought--when I believed the very worst thingin the world of him--when I thought he had failed me--then I found out.Then I knew I loved--_him_." She leaned her head back against the arm ofthe chair, and her hands rested, palm upward, in her lap. "It's wortheverything that's happened, to know that." She was mercifully stillagain. Carter thought once that she must be asleep, she was breathing sosoftly and evenly, but after a long pause she asked, with a shade ofdifference in her tone, "How long has Juan been gone, Carter?"
He looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes. Perhaps half an hour."
Honor rose to her feet. "Well, then," she said with conviction, "they'llbe here soon! Any minute, now."
"They may not come." He could not help saying it.
"Oh, they'll come! They'll come very--" she stopped short at the soundof a shot. "What was that?" she asked, childishly.
"That was a shot," said Carter, watching her face.
"But it wouldn't hurt Jimsy or Juan. They're nearly here! That was faraway, wasn't it, Carter?" Still her bright serenity held fear at bay.
"Not very far, Honor." He wanted to see that calm of hers broken up; hewanted cruelly to make her sense the danger.
"But, Cartie," she explained to him, patiently, "you know nothing isgoing to happen to Jimsy now, when I've just begun really to care forhim!" She opened the door and stepped out on the veranda, and hefollowed her. "See--it's almost morning!" The east was gray and therewas a drowsy twittering of birds.
"It's the false dawn," said Carter stubbornly. "Listen--" another shotrang out, then three in quick succession. "I believe they're chasingJuan!"
The Mexican who was on guard held up a hand, commanding them to listen.They held their breath. Through the soft silence they began to get thesound of running feet, stumbling feet, running with difficulty, and inanother moment, up the green lane came Yaqui Juan, bent almost doublewith the weight of Jimsy King across his back.
"Honor!" Carter tried to catch her. "Come back! You mustn't--Are youcrazy?"
But Honor and the Mexican who had been on guard at the steps wererunning, side by side, to meet them. Yaqui Juan flung a word to the_peon_ and he stood with his gun leveled, covering the path.
"_Mira_!" said the Indian, proudly. "_Senorita_, I have brought backyour man!"
"Skipper," cried Jimsy King in a strong voice, "get in the house! Get_in_! I'm all right!"
Then, unaccountably, inconsistently, all the terror she had not sufferedbefore laid hold on her. "Jimsy! You're hurt! You're wounded!"
"Just a cut on the leg, Skipper! That's why I was so slow. It's nothing,I tell you,--get in the house!"
But Honor, running beside them, trying to carry a part of him, kept pacebeside them until Yaqui Juan had carried Jimsy into the house and up thestairs and laid him on his own bed.
"There are five canteens," said Jimsy. "Here--one's for you, Skipper.Take the rest to Mrs. King, Juan. Skipper, drink it. Just a little atfirst, you know--careful! Don't you hear what I'm saying to you?Drink--the water--out of this canteen!"
Mechanically, her eyes always on his face, Honor loosened the cap andopened the canteen and drank.
"There,--that's enough!" said Jimsy, sharply. "Now, wait five minutesbefore you take any more." He took the canteen away from her. "Sitdown!" He was not meeti
"Did you have any, Jimsy?"
"Gallons. I didn't have any trouble to speak of, really. Only one fellowactually on guard. We had a little rough-house. He struck me in the leg,and it bled a lot. That's what kept me. And it took--some time--withhim."
"Jimsy, is it bad? Is it still bleeding? Let me see!"
He pushed her away, almost roughly. "It's all right. Juan tied it up.It'll do. I guess you can have a little more water, now,--but take itslowly.... There! Now you'd better go and see about the rest. Don't letthem take too much at first."
"I'm not going away," said Honor, quietly. "I'm not going to leave youagain, ever." She pulled her chair close beside the bed and took hishand in both of hers. "Jimsy, I know. I know everything."
"That darn' Indian," said Jimsy, crossly. "If he'd stayed in here, withthe door locked! I'd have been back in half an hour longer."
"And he poured the whisky back into the decanter. Oh, Jimsy----"
"Well, I suppose it was a fool stunt, but I knew I could put it over. Idid a booze-fighter in the Junior play,--and I guess it comes prettyeasy!" He turned away from her, his face to the wall. "I'd like to bealone, now, Skipper. You'd better look after Cart'. Watch him on thewater. He'll kill himself if he takes too much."
"Jimsy, I'm not going to leave you."
He lifted himself on his elbow. "Skipper, dear," he said gently, "what'sthe use? I suppose I took a crazy kid way to show you I wasn't worthyour sticking to, and I guess I'm not, if it comes to that, but the factremains, and we can't get away from it."
"What fact, Jimsy?"
"That you--care--for Carter."
"Jimsy, have you lost your senses? I--care for _Carter_?"
"He told me."
"Then," said Honor, her eyes darkening, "he told you a lie."
He dropped back on the pillow. He had lost a lot of blood before YaquiJuan found him and tied up his cut, and he looked white and spent. "Oh,Skipper, please.... Let's not drag it out. I saw your message to him."
"What message?"
"The one you sent to the steamer, after he'd lost his head and told youhe loved you,--and--and asked you if you loved him." Difficult words;grotesque and meaningless, but he must manage with them. "I'm notblaming you, Skipper. I know I'm slow in the head beside Cart' and hecan give you a lot that I can't. And nothing--hanging over him. You'dhave played the game through to the last gun; I know that. But itwouldn't have been right for any of us. I'm glad Cart' blew up and toldme."
Honor laid his hand gently back on the bedspread of exquisite Mexicandrawnwork and stood up. "Carter showed you the telegram I sent him fromGenoa?"
"Yes. He carries it always in his wallet."
"He told you it meant that I loved him?"
"Skipper, don't feel like that about it. It had to come out, some time."His voice sounded weary and weak.
She bent over him, speaking gently. "Be quiet, Jimsy; lie still. I'mgoing to bring Carter up here."
"Oh, Skipper, what's the use? You--you make me wish that greaser hadfinished me, down at the well. Please----"
"Wait!"
He heard her feet in the hall, flying down the stairs, and he turned hisface to the wall again, his young mouth quivering.
She found Carter lying on the wide couch, one arm trailing limply overthe side of it, the emptied canteen dangling from his hand, and he wasbreathing with difficulty. His face was darkly mottled and congested butHonor did not notice it. "Carter," she said, "I want you to come with meand tell Jimsy how you lied to him. I want you to tell him what mymessage really meant."
"I--can't come--now," he gasped. "I can't--" he tried to raise himselfbut he fell back on the pillows.
"Then give me your wallet," she said, implacably, bending over him.
"No, _no_! It isn't there--wait! By and by I'll----" but his eyesbetrayed him.
Roughly, with fierce haste, she thrust her hand into his coat pocket andpulled out his wallet of limp leather with the initials in slimlywrought gold letters.
"Please, Honor! Please,--let me--I'll give you--I'll find it--" heclutched at her dress but she stepped back from the couch and he losthis balance and fell heavily to the floor.
When she pulled out the bit of closely folded paper with a sharp soundof triumph there came with it a thick letter which dropped on the redtiles. He snatched at it but Honor's downward swoop was swifter. Shestood staring at it, her eyes opening wider and wider, turning the plumpletter in her hands.
"Jimsy's letter to me," she said at last in a flat, curious tone. "Theone he gave you to mail." She was not exclamatory. She was too utterlystunned for that. She seemed to be considering a course of action, herbrows drawn. "I won't tell Jimsy; I'm--afraid of what he'd do. I'll lethim go on believing in you, if you go away."
He looked up at her from his horrid huddle on the floor, through hisbloodshot eyes, the boy who had taught her so much about books and playsand dinners in restaurants and the right sort of music to admire, and itseemed to him that her long known, long loved face was a wholly strangeone, sharply chiseled from cold stone.
"If you'll go away," she went on, "I won't tell him about the letter."She was looking at him curiously, as if she had never seen him before."All these years I've been sorry for you because you limped. But Ihaven't been sorry enough. I see now; it's--your soul that limps. Well,you must limp away, out of our lives. I won't have you near us. You'vetried and tried to drag him down but something--somewhere--has held himup! As soon as help comes-to-morrow--to-day--I'm going to marry him,here, in Mexico, and I'll never leave him again as long as we live. Doyou hear?"
She turned to go, but he made a smothered, inarticulate sound and shelooked down at him, and down and down, to the depths where he lay. "Youpoor--thing," she said, gently. "Oh, you poor thing!"
She ran up to Jimsy and sat down on the edge of his bed and gathered himinto her arms, so that his head rested on her breast. "Carter--poorCarter," she said, "is too weak to come upstairs now, but I am going totell you the whole truth, and you are going to believe me. Listen,dearest----"
They were still like that, still talking, when Madeline King rushed intothe room. "Children," she cried, "oh, my dears--haven't you heard them?Don't you know?"
"No," they told her, smiling with courteous young attention.
"They're here--the soldiers! It's all right!" She was cryingcontentedly. "Rich' is conscious,--he understands. My dears, we'resaved! I tell you we're saved!"
"Oh, we knew that," said Honor, gravely.