How many hours he paced up and down in the hot darkness with Charley clinging to his arm, he could not tell. She did not cry again. Her agony of mind, like Roger's, was too deep for tears. She could only wring her hands and stumble back and forth like a hunted thing.
It was Roger's first experience in trying to assuage the grief of any one else. He discovered resources within himself of which he never before had dreamed.
"We were all to blame, Charley," he insisted again and again.
"No, the fault was mine! Oh, little, lovely Felicia! Roger, you must know that though I wouldn't let you strike Dick, I hate him! I hate him!"
"Good God, Charley! Let's not bring Dick in, to-night. We have our own private hell as he has his. Do you know that I'm realizing that what you said is right? That if Felicia had seen me again in one of my temper fits, it might have driven her away, just as this did. I'll never lose control of my temper again, Charley."
She did not answer except to groan. After a time, Roger said, "I'm thinking about Dick's wound. If it isn't attended to, soon, gangrene may set in. You and I had better drive him into town to-morrow."
"We'll not. He deserves to lose his leg!"
"Perhaps he does. But we aren't the ones to say so. Come into the tent, Charley, you are staggering and so am I."
Once more he led her into the tent where he lighted a "bug" and once more they sat down side by side on the trunk. Suddenly Roger put his arm about the girl and pulled her close against him, saying brokenly: "Oh, Charley! Charley! You are so like her! Lean against me, dear, as she would, and we'll try to weather this together." And Charley, with a tremulous sigh, laid her soft cheek against his rough, unshaven one. They sat there until the tent was filled with the lovely gray of the filtered moonlight. Then Roger persuaded Charley to lie down. But when she had done so she clung to his hand.
"Stay with me, just a little bit longer," she whispered. Roger seated himself on the floor, clasping her hand closely. It was not long before Charley, still clinging to his hand, drifted off into uneasy slumber. Roger then leaned his tired head against the pillow and cramped as he was in his sitting posture, he dropped into a profound sleep.
Thus Gustav found them at dawn. His face was tear-stained but he smiled a little with a look that was full of pity and understanding. He tried to tiptoe out without a sound but a board creaked and Charley sat up, stared at him, then exclaimed: "I must go up and dress her."