"
"Shore I heerd you," drawled Larry, softly, "but you're goin' back
if I have to hawg-tie you an' pack you out there on a hoss."
Neale said no more. If he had said another word he would have
betrayed himself to his friend. He yearned for his old work. To
think that the engineer corps needed him filled him with joy. But at
the same time he knew what an effort it would take to apply himself
to any task. He hated to attempt it. He doubted himself. He was
morbid. All that day he wandered around at Larry's heels, half
oblivious of what was going on. After dark he slipped away from his
friend to be alone. And being alone in the dark quietness brought
home to him the truth of a strange, strong growth, out of the depths
of him, that was going to overcome his morbid craving to be idle, to
drift, to waste his life on a haunting memory.
He could not sleep that night, and so was awake when Larry lounged
in, slow and heavy. The cowboy was half-drunk. Neale took him to
task, and they quarreled. Finally Larry grew silent and fell asleep.
After that Neale likewise dropped into slumber.
In the morning Larry was again his old, cool, easy, reckless self,
and had apparently forgotten Neale's sharp words. Neale, however,
felt a change in himself. This was the first morning for a long time
that he had not hated the coming of daylight.
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