Roxy studied the horrified countenance turned toward her as well as she could in the half light. She was thick-witted, but eventually she understood. "You Callisty Gentry!" she ejaculated with a note of passive savagery. "Do you think I'd lead the law to Buddy? What I want to know is whar he's at and how bad hurt is he? Tham men won't trust me, but I 'lowed you'd think enough of the father of yo' child to give me the directions so I could git to him. He's got to have good vittles, and someone to--he's got to have care. L--L"--her mouth quivered so that she could scarce go on--"Lance ain't like some folks--he could jest die for want of somebody to tend on him. Don't I know?" A tremor shook [354] her. "I mind after Ma was gone, and Sylvane was a baby, an' Lance he cried bekaze I--oh, my God, Callisty! tell me whar he's at. I got to git to him. Don't be so hard-hearted, honey. I know hit seemed like Lance was a sinner--oftentimes; but the good God Hisself did love sinners when He was here on earth. Hit says so in the Book. He used to git out an' hunt 'em up. Oh! oh! oh!" Flinging an arm against the trunk of a sapling, Roxy Griever hid her face upon it and began to weep. Mary Ann Martha stood the sight and sound as long as she could, and then added her shrill pipe of woe. "Sssh! Hush; both of you, for mercy's sake!" besought Callista. "Stay here just a minute, Roxy. I'm going back to the house to get--well, I know about what he'll need. Then I have to tell Mother to look after the baby." "Air you goin' with me? Oh, Callisty, air you goin' with me now?" the widow quavered. "No," answered Callista. "I'm going alone. Grandfather can let me have a horse, or not, as he's a mind. If I can't get it from him, I'll slip back with you and see what Sylvane and Father Cleaverage can do for me. I'm the one to go and look after Lance." Roxy and the child waited in stoic silence while Callista returned cautiously to the main house. There was some quiet moving about from one [355] building to another, a stir over at the log stable, and in an incredibly brief time Callista came to them riding on her grandfather's horse and leading the mule, saddled, for the other two. "We'll go a-past yo' house--hit's as near as any way," was all she said. Once at the Cleaverage place, Lance's wife was persuaded to accept Sylvane's company for the night journey, though she peremptorily--almost impatiently--refused any addition to her ample provision for Lance's comfort. But when the two, all ready to leave, stood reconnoitering in the dark outside the house to see that the coast was clear before starting, Roxy came trembling out with a package which she thrust into her brother's hand. "Thar," she whispered, "take it to him. I only wish't I'd 'a' got it in the frames and quilted it, so that it might have been some use keepin' him warm." "It--it ain't yo' gospel quilt, Sis' Roxy, is it?" Sylvane inquired, fumbling with doubtful inquiry at the roll in his hands.