He felt a dead weight of complete lassitude, and he did not want to
move. A sudden pain in his hand caused him to hold it up. It was
black and blue, swollen to almost twice its normal size, and stiff
as a board. The knuckles were skinned and crusted with dry blood.
Dick soliloquized that it was the worst-looking hand he had seen
since football days, and that it would inconvenience him for some
time.
A warm, dry, fragrant breeze came through the window. Dick caught
again the sweet smell of flowers or fruit. He heard the fluttering
of leaves, the murmur of running water, the twittering of birds,
then the sound of approaching footsteps and voices. The door at
the far end of the room was open. Through it he saw poles of peeled
wood upholding a porch roof, a bench, rose bushes in bloom, grass,
and beyond these bright-green foliage of trees.
"He shore was sleepin' when I looked in an hour ago," said a voice
that Dick recognized as Ladd's.
"Let him sleep," came the reply in deep, good-natured tones. "Mrs.
B. says the girl's never moved. Must have been a tough ride for
them both. Forty miles through cactus!"
"Young Gale hoofed darn near half the way," replied Ladd. "We
tried to make him ride one of our hosses. If we had, we'd never
got here. A walk like that'd killed me an' Jim."
"Well, Laddy, I'm right down glad to see you boys, and I'll do all
I can for the young couple," said the other. "But I'm doing some
worry here; don't mistake me.
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