Page:Harold Titus--Timber.djvu/72

64 He found that his palms were damp with sweat and that his heart was beating rapidly. He felt useless, out of place; he was glad that none there gave him attention; he would have fled into the rain were it possible to escape unnoticed. For the first time John Taylor was looking life squarely in the face, with death leering over his shoulder. He had not wanted to grub for his money; he had come to Blueberry after an easy start toward fortune. And these people, no older than he, had been willing to grub just for peace—and had failed because Jim Harris made easy money.

For half an hour no sound came from the bedroom. Then the girl whispered her husband's name.

"Yes, Jenny?" He slipped to his knees and leaned across the bed.

"Hold me close," she whispered. "Closer!—And Thad?—Thad?—Thad?"

He looked about and shoved the door closed with one foot to exclude those others who had come to help and could not. They heard a creaking as though he drew the girl closer into his arms; they heard his voice murmuring and heard hers. Rain rattled on the roof and the thin shell of the house; wind yelped at the cornices. The steel windmill, out of gear, creaked dolefully as it moved in the blow. A distant dog barked and a cow bawled. The clock struck rapidly and ticked on. Helen filled the stove box with wood and sat down again.

"If the doctor isn't here in a few minutes," she said, "you had better go on."

"I'll be glad to. Can't I go now?"

He was eager to escape.

"No, he may be on the way, and you may be needed here."