horse's hoofs on the road above; the sun moved
slowly over the narrow, gay strips of rag carpet on
the floor: life went on elsewhere.

His fear changed to loathing, to absolute, sick repulsion
from all the facts of his existence. With
the passing minutes the lines deepened on his haggard
countenance, his expression perceptibly aged.
The stubble of beard that had grown since the day
before grizzled his lean jaw; the confident line of
his shoulders, of his back, was bowed.

He looked up with a start to find the doctor once
more in the room. He rose. "Doc," he asked in
a strained whisper, "Doc, will it be all right?" He
wet his lips. "Will she live?"

"You needn't whisper," the other told him; "she
doesn't know... now. 'Will she live?' I can
only tell you that she wanted to die a thousand
times."

Gordon turned away, looking out through the window.
It gave upon the slope planted with corn; the
vivid, green shoots everywhere pushed through the
chocolate-colored soil; chickens were vigorously
scratching in a corner. The shadow of the west
range reached down and enfolded the Makimmon
dwelling; the sky burned in a sulphur-yellow flame.
When he turned the doctor had vanished, the room
had grown dusky. He resumed his seat.

"I didn't do right," he acknowledged to the trav-

[[272]]

p271 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p272w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p273

v?