But a sense
of forlorn helplessness amid these warring spirits lay heavily on her
and she beckoned to the old servant, wanting him near her as one who,
no matter how dire the circumstances, would never fail her.
"Yes, he's angry," she said when they were out of earshot. "I suppose
it's about David. But what can we do? We can't make David over into
another man, and we can't leave him behind just because he's not as
strong as the rest of us. I feel as if we were getting to be savages."
The old man gave a grunt that had a note of cynical acquiescence, then
held up his hand in a signal for quiet. The thud of a horse's hoofs
came from the outside night. With a quick word to get the supper
ready, she ran forward and stood in the farthest rim of the light
waiting for her betrothed.
David was a pitiable spectacle. The dust lay thick on his face, save
round his eyes, whence he had rubbed it, leaving the sockets looking
unnaturally sunken and black. His collar was open and his neck rose
bare and roped with sinews. There was but one horse at the end of the
trail rope. As he slid out of the saddle, he dropped the rope on the
ground, saying that the other animal was sick, he had left it dying he
thought.
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