or hereabouts the Indians had killed some of them. They had gone on, leaving their hastily dug graves, and later on they had come back, some of them, to search for them; but they never could find them.
On and on. Talk, talk. Sing, whistle. Creak, creak. Kay felt her nerves getting out of control.
"So this old fellow, I took him all over the place. He picked out the spring where his son was killed but"
"Tom," she said suddenly, "if you say another word I am going to scream."
He was dumbfounded. His face fell.
"Why didn't you speak up before, girl? I've been talking to keep your mind off your troubles!"
He smiled down at her, but she was too weary, too heart-sick to respond.
"Look here," he said, "you need something to eat. That's what's the matter with you."
"I'm not hungry. I'm just wet and cold and tired."
"Well, that's enough," he observed dryly, and stopping the wagon, crawled out into the mud and rain. She could hear him rummaging in the provision box behind her, and finally he came to her triumphantly with a box of sardines and some crackers.
"Now," he said, "if I can work the combination of this little fish safe"
Suddenly she laughed hysterically, and he looked up.
"What's the matter?" he demanded, suspiciously.
"Nothing. Only it's so different, so"
She began to cry.
