Milton, all you have to
do is to call through the window. Neither of us will undress so we can
be on duty, instantly. There is plenty of stew still simmering in the
pot, and cold biscuit on the table. Good night, all of you."
"Na-che, she don't need to bother. I'll look out for Mr. Milton," said
Jonas, suddenly rousing from his chair where he had been dozing.
"You go to bed and to sleep, Jonas," ordered Diana. "Good night,
Judge."
"Good night, Diana!"
The door closed softly and Diana was seen no more that night. The rain
ceased at midnight and the stars shone forth clear and cold, but Milton
was the only person in the camp to be conscious of the fact. Just as
the dawn wind was rising, though, and the cottonwoods were outlining
themselves against the eastern sky, stumbling footsteps near the tent
wakened both Diana and Na-che, and they opened the tent flap, hastily.
Forrester was clinging to a cottonwood tree. At least it was a worn,
bleached, ragged counterfeit of Forrester.
"Hard's back on the trail apiece. I came on for help," he said huskily.
"Is he sick or hurt?" cried Diana.
"No, just all in."
"I'll take a horse for him, right off," said Na-che. "You help Mr.
Forrester into the house, Diana.
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