That
was all there was to it.
For the present King was helpless, and there could be no possible use in
reproaching his mother for her action--or lack of action. Once let him
get up on his feet, his own master once more--then it would be of use to
talk. And talk he would some day. Also he would act. Meanwhile--
Red Pepper Burns came out of the house and scrutinized his friend and
patient closely as he approached. "Want to go on, or shall I take you
home?" he inquired.
"Take me on--anywhere--everywhere! Something inside will break loose if
you don't." King spoke with a smothered note of irritation new to him in
Burns's experience.
"You've about reached the limit, have you?" The question was
straightforward, matter-of-fact in tone, but King knew the sympathy
behind it.
"I rather have," the young man admitted. "I'm ashamed to own it."
"You needn't be. It's a wonder you haven't reached it sooner; I should
have. Well, if you stand this drive pretty well to-day you ought to come
on fast. With that back, you may be thankful you're getting off as
easily as you are."
"I am thankful--everlastingly thankful. It's just--"
"I know. Blow off some of that steam; it won't hurt you. Here we are on
the straight road. I'll open up and give you a taste of what poor Henley
felt the first time his crippled body and his big, uncrippled spirit
tasted the delight of 'Speed.' Remember?"
"Indeed I do. Oh, I'm not complaining.
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