Susan heard the whispered conference,
and in a moment was kneeling on the seat, her hand clutched like a
spread starfish on the old man's shoulder.
Courant leaned from his saddle to catch the driver's ear with his
lowered tones. "With a forced march we can get there to-morrow
afternoon. The animals can rest up and we can make him comfortable and
maybe find a doctor."
Her face, lifted to him, was like a transparent medium through which
anxiety and hope that was almost pain, shone. She hung on his words
and breathed back quick agreement. It would have been the same if he
had suggested the impossible, if the angel of the Lord had appeared and
barred the way with a flaming sword.
"Of course they can go all night. They must. We'll walk and ride by
turns. That'll lighten the wagon. I'll go and get my horse," and she
was out and gone to the back of the train where David rode at the head
of the pack animals.
The night was of a clear blue darkness, suffused with the misty light
of stars. Looking back, Courant could see her upright slenderness
topping the horse's black shape. When the road lay pale and unshaded
behind her he could decipher the curves of her head and shoulders.
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