"Very likely it was some plot to injure them,
concocted by that fellow Jones."
The unfailing reason of this astonished Cora. How could Jack have
guessed so near the facts?
"At any rate I think the poor man will be able to be moved in the
morning," she finished, as they made their way up the hill. "It
will be a wonderful thing if, after all, it comes out all right;
that he is a free man, and that his slight injury may restore his
scattered faculties."
"Let us hope so," said Jack fervently.
Cora wanted to tell him about the letter from Jones otherwise
Brentano, but there was not time to do so before they reached the
hut, so she reasoned it would be best to postpone it.
Laurel was sitting, holding her father's injured head when they
entered the hut. He was awake now, and looking with such great,
hungry eyes into his daughter's face.
"Now we have fresh water, father," she said. "Do you know my
friends?"
"The girl, yes," he said 'feebly. "But the boy?"
"Her brother," said Laurel quickly, delight showing in her voice.
"Isn't it good to have friends, father?"
"Good, very good," he said. Then he dosed his eyes again, and
neither Cora nor Jack ventured to speak.
"It does not seem possible that he can talk so rationally," Laurel
whispered. "Oh, I have now such hopes that he will get well."
"Of course he will," Jack assured her. "But you girls had better
get some rest.
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