In the morning he saw nothing of the young man, and as a warm rain was steadily falling, he was glad to get the use of the horse, and rode away happily in the rain, with food provided for both himself and the beast sufficient for the day slung in a sack behind him.
"Reckon ye'll come back hyar this evenin'?" queried the old mother, as he adjusted her bandages before leaving.
"I'll see how the cabin feels after I have had a fire in the chimney all day."
As he left, he paused by Cassandra's side. She was standing by the spout of running water waiting for her pail to fill. "If it happens that you need me for—anything at all, send Hoyle, and I'll come immediately. Will you?"
She lifted her eyes to his gratefully. "Thank you," was all she said, but his look impelled more. "You are right kind," she added.
Hardly satisfied, he departed, but turned in his saddle to glance back at her. She was swaying sidewise with the weight of the full pail, straining one slender arm as she bore it into the house. Who did all the work there, he wondered. That great youth ought to relieve her of such tasks. Where was he? Little did he dream that the eyes of the great youth were at that moment fixed darkly upon him from the small pane of glass set in under the cabin roof, which lighted Frale's garret room.