Perhaps Grace had only fainted; should he go to George first? He might
be dying--or dead! Then the thought came to him: "Women and children
first."
Gus dashed down the hill, dipped his cap, cup fashion, into the water of
the dam and fled up with it again, brimming full and spilling over. He
was able to dash a considerable quantity of reviving water into the
girl's face. With a gasp and a struggle she turned over, opened her
eyes, sat up,--her physical powers returning in advance of her mental
grasp.
"Oh, am I,--no, not dead? Please help me--up and home."
"Yes, I'll take you home in just a jiffy. Do you feel a little better?
Can you sit still here, please, till I see about George? Just a moment?"
Again the boy went down the hill, now toward the tool house; he was
brave enough, but a sort of horror gripped him as he rounded the corner
of the little shack. What, then, was his relief when he found the
watchman on his feet, a bit uncertain about his balance and leaning
against the door frame. It was evident from the way he held his club
that he meant not to desert his post and that he believed his late
assailant was returning. At sight of Gus, the colored man's relief
showed in his drawn face.
"Mist' Gus! It's you, honey! My Lawd! Ah done been shot! By the ghos',
Mist' Gus, whut ain't nothin' no mo'n dat low-down, no 'count nephew o'
ol' Mist' Hooper's. Ah reckon Ah's gwine die, but Ah ain't yit--not ef
he's comin' back!"
"Good boy, George! You're the stuff! But you're not going to die and
he's not coming back.
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