of the girl, fresh-skinned from a wash in the river, instead of
soothing, further inflamed him. Her glowing well-being seemed bought
at his expense. Her words of concern spoke to his sick ear with a note
of smug, unfeeling complacence.

"David, you're half dead. Every thing'll be ready in a minute. Sit
down and rest. Here, take my blanket."

She spread her blanket for him, but he stood still, not answering,
staring at her with dull, accusing eyes. Then, with a dazed movement,
he pushed his hand over the crown of his head throwing off his hat.
The hand was unsteady, and it fell, the hooked forefinger catching in
the opening of his shirt, dragging it down and showing his bony breast.
If he had been nothing to her she would have pitied him. Sense of
wrongs done him made the pity passionate. She went to him, the
consoling woman in her eyes, and laid her hand on the one that rested
on his chest.

"David, sit down and rest. Don't move again. I'll get you everything.
I never saw you look as you do to-night."

With an angry movement he threw her hand off.

"You don't care," he said. "What does it matter to you when you've
been comfortable all day? So long as you and the others are all right
I don't matter."

It was so unlike him, his face was so changed and charged with a
childish wretchedness, that she felt no check upon her sympathy. She
knew it was not David that spoke, but a usurping spirit born of evil
days. The other men pricked their ears and listened, but she was
indifferent to their watch, and tried again to take his hand, saying,
pleadingly:

"Sit down. When I get your supper you'll be better. I'll have it
ready in a few minutes."

This time he threw her hand off with violence. His face, under its
dust mask, flamed with the anger that had been accumulating through the
day.

"Let me alone," he cried, his voice strangled like a wrathful child's.
"I don't want anything to do with you. Eat your supper. When I'm
ready I'll get mine without any help from you. Let me be."

He turned from her, and moving over the blanket, stumbled on its folds.
The jar was the breaking touch to his overwrought nerves. He
staggered, caught his breath with a hiccoughing gasp, and dropping his
face into his hands burst into hysterical tears. Then in a sudden
abandonment of misery he threw himself on the blanket, buried his head
in his folded arms and rending sobs broke from him. For a moment they
were absolut