An inarticulate, sobbing cry that rent his whole body burst from the Fighter. The dear arms closed above his heaving shoulders and his head lay once more on the girl’s breast. Through the hell of his agony stole for the moment that old, weirdly sweet sense of being at last safe from all the noise and battle of the world;--at _home_. And, as a mother might hush a frightened child, the stricken girl soothed and comforted him; whispering secret love-words of their own; lulling to rest the horror that was consuming him. * * * * * And after a time the shock passed, bringing the man’s inborn optimism back with a rush. This girl who spoke so bravely, who even laughed a little in her eagerness to comfort him,--she _could_ not be at death’s door. This local pill-mixer who had pulled so long a face,--he and the parson chap whose business it was to speed earth’s parting guests,--between them they had cooked up a fine alarm. They had scared him,--they and that fool boy who knew nothing about accidents and whose own minor injuries no doubt made him think Desirée must be incurably hurt. Caleb had seen many men who had been injured in railroad smashups. They had writhed clumsily, emitting raucous screams ’way down in their throats;--or had lain senseless in queer-shaped heaps, from the first. Not one of them had been coherent, calm,--yes, even cheerful,--like this worshipped little sweetheart of his. The first shock was bringing its normal reaction to the Fighter’s brain and nerves. As ever, it was imparting to them a redoubled power to cast off depression. He raised his head; and, by the dim light, studied Desirée’s face. The brave, beautiful eyes met his with a message of deathless love. The tortured lips were parted in a smile. All at once he knew he was right. She would get well. The enginery that had made his fortune would not crush out her life. The railroad that had brought him wealth was not to bring him desolation as well. The foreknowledge set his blood to tingling. “Are you sufferin’ so very much, girl?” he asked. And she, reading his thoughts as she had always done, smiled again as she answered: “Not very much, dear heart. Hardly at all, now that you’re here. Oh, it’s _good_ to have you with me again! I was afraid you mightn’t--” She stopped. He thought he knew why, and made answer: “Thought I mightn’t come, hey? Why, girl, if you had a smashed finger an’ sent for me to come clear across the world to kiss it an’ make it well, I’d come. An’ you know I would. An’ you’re really better since I got here?” “Much, much better.” “I knew it!” he declared, in triumph. “I knew you’d come ’round all right. I had a hunch you would. An’ my hunches don’t ever go wrong. I’ve sent for the best doctors in America. If there’s better doctors in Yurrup I’ll send for those, too. An’, among ’em they’ll have you fit as a fiddle in no time. You’ll get well, for _me_, darling. You’ll get well! You’ll get _well_!”