Part 49 (2/2)
”You're a liar, Pete Mullendore!” she taunted. ”You don't know. You haven't any idea where Katie Prentice's father lives!”
The gibe brought no response; yet slowly, so gradually that it was not possible to tell when it began, a look that was wholly rational came into his eyes. He blinked, touched his dry lips with his dry tongue and, turning his head, recognized her without surprise.
”Git me a drink.”
She held a dipper to his lips.
He fixed his eyes upon her face.
”I been sick?”
”Spotted fever.”
He stirred slightly.
”What's this?” A weak astonishment was in his voice as he felt a rope across his arms and chest.
”To keep you in bed.”
”I been--loony?”
She nodded.
He looked at her quizzically.
”Emptied my sack?”
”You've talked.”
He lay motionless, staring at her fixedly; then, as if arriving at a conclusion:
”Guess I didn't say much.”
”You said plenty,” significantly.
”But not enough, eh?” he jeered.
She regarded him silently.
”Where am I, anyhow?”
”In my camp.”
”Oh.” He considered a moment, then mocked, ”Got religion?”
”Not yet,” curtly.
”Jest wanted me close? Ol' friends are the best friends--ain't they?” He grinned weakly at her.
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