They came in bursting sobs, a
succession of rending throes that she struggled to stifle, swaying and
quivering under their stress.
He thought of nothing now but this new pain added to the hour's
tragedy, and stroked her shoulder with a low "Keep quiet--keep quiet,"
then leaned his face against her hair and breathed through its tangles.
"It's all right, I'll do it. I'll say I couldn't find anyone. I'll
lie for you, Missy."
She released him at once, dropped back a step and, lifting a distorted
face, gave a nod. He passed on, and she fell on the grass, close to
the tent ropes and lay there, hidden by the darkness.
She did not hear a step approaching from the herded tents. Had she
been listening it would have been hard to discern, for the feet were
moccasin shod, falling noiseless on the muffling grass. A man's figure
with fringes wavering along its outline came round the tent wall. The
head was thrust forward, the ear alert for voices. Faring softly his
foot struck her and he bent, stretching down a feeling hand. It
touched her shoulder, slipped along her side, and gripped at her arm.
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