Strange
self-assertions, violences of temper, were under the skin ready to
break out at a jar in the methodical routine. Had the train been
larger, its solidarity less complete, furious quarrels would have taken
place. With an acknowledged leader whom they believed in and obeyed,
the chances of friction were lessened. Three of them could meet the
physical demands of the struggle. It was David's fate that, unable to
do this, he should fall to a position of feeble uselessness, endurable
in a woman, but difficult to put up with in a man.
One morning Susan was waked by angry voices. An oath shook sleep from
her, and thrusting her head out of the wagon where she now slept, she
saw the three men standing in a group, rage on Courant's face, disgust
on Daddy John's, and on David's an abstraction of aghast dismay that
was not unlike despair. To her question Daddy John gave a short
answer. David's horses, insecurely picketed, had pulled up their
stakes in the night and gone. A memory of the young man's exhaustion
the evening before, told the girl the story; David had forgotten to
picket them and immediately after supper had fallen asleep.
Pages:
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398