...He got up
suddenly and walked out into the dining-room.
Beyond, in the kitchen, he heard the rumble of men's voices. He
hesitated for a moment, and then opened the door. There were half
a dozen men in the kitchen, and one of them was Amos Vick. They
were preparing to go out into the night. Vick's face was haggard,
his garments were muddy, his long rubber boots were covered with
sludge and sand. Catching sight of Thane in the doorway, the farmer
went toward him, his hand outstretched.
"I'm glad you came, Courtney," he said, his voice hoarse but steady.
"Lucinda will be pleased. Does she know you're here?"
"I sent word up, but if she doesn't feel like--"
"She'll want to see you. We're starting out again. Down the river."
(His voice shook a little.) "My soul,--boy,--you look as white as
a sheet. Here,--take a good swig of this. It's some rye that Steve
White brought over. We all needed it. Help yourself. You've been
overdoing a little today, Courtney. You're not fit for this sort
of--That's right! That will brace you up. You needed it, my boy."
Courtney drained half a tumbler of whiskey neat. He choked a little.
"I guess we'd better be starting, Amos," said Steve White.
"Take me along with you, Mr. Vick," cried Courtney, squaring his
shoulders. "I can't stand being idle while--"
"You'd catch your death of cold," interrupted Vick, laying his
hand on the young man's shoulder.
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