. . . Well, he lay on his back for two solid weeks--in the
room we're givin' you. An' I for one didn't think he'd ever get up. But he
did. An' he got better. An' after a while he went to work for Tom. Then six
months an' more ago he invested in the sheep business with Tom. He lived
with us until he built his cabin up West Fork. He an' Flo have run together
a good deal, an' naturally he told her about you. So you see you're not a
stranger. An' we want you to feel you're with friends."
"I thank you, Mrs. Hutter," replied Carley, feelingly. "I never could thank
you enough for being good to Glenn. I did not know he was so--so sick. At
first he wrote but seldom."
"Reckon he never wrote you or told you what he did in the war," declared
Mrs. Hutter.
"Indeed he never did!"
"Well, I'll tell you some day. For Tom found out all about him. Got some of
it from a soldier who came to Flagstaff for lung trouble. He'd been in the
same company with Glenn. We didn't know this boy's name while he was in
Flagstaff. But later Tom found out. John Henderson. He was only twenty-two,
a fine lad. An' he died in Phoenix. We tried to get him out here. But the
boy wouldn't live on charity. He was always expectin' money--a war bonus,
whatever that was.
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