CHAPTER XIX
HOME
DOUGLAS was half blinded by snow-glare and wind, so it was several minutes before he observed an old man sitting eagerly erect on one of the beds. Doug started to his feet.
"Where'd you come from, Mr. Fowler!"
"From Lost Chief Peak. Get warm and rested, Doug, before you try to talk."
"I was starting out after you when I found that Judith—" began Doug. "And then—"
"Judith," interrupted Mr. Fowler, "needed you more than I did."
"Did they hurt you?" insisted Douglas.
"No. Don't try to talk till you are rested, my boy."
"That won't take long!" croaked Douglas.
But, as a matter of fact, it was morning before he heard the preacher's story or told his own. He was warmed and fed enormously and rolled into a feather bed. And he knew nothing more until the smell of coffee and the sound of women's voices roused him.
The living-room was flooded with sunlight. The preacher was thrusting wood into the red-hot stove.
"Where's Judith?" asked Douglas.
"Helping Mrs. Nelson get breakfast. How are you?"
"Fine! Do you suppose I can shave before breakfast?"
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