The river bed was bare its
width in places, and while the Kingfisher made merry with his
family, and rattled, feasting from Abram Johnson's to the Gar-hole,
the Black Bass sought its deep pool, and lay still. It was a rare
thing to hear it splash in those days.
The prickly heat burned until the souls of men were tried. Mary
slipped listlessly about or lay much of the time on a couch beside
a window, where a breath of air stirred. Despite the good beginning
he had made in the spring, Jimmy slumped with the heat and
exposures he had risked, and was hard to live with.
Dannie was not having a good time himself. Since Jimmy's wedding,
life had been all grind to Dannie, but he kept his reason, accepted
his lot, and ground his grist with patience and such cheer as few
men could have summoned to the aid of so poor a cause. Had there
been any one to notice it, Dannie was tired and heat-ridden also,
but as always, Dannie sank self, and labored uncomplainingly with
Jimmy's problems. On a burning August morning Dannie went to
breakfast, and found Mary white and nervous, little prepared to
eat, and no sign of Jimmy.
"Jimmy sleeping?" he asked.
"I don't know where Jimmy is," Mary answered coldly.
"Since when?" asked Dannie, gulping coffee, and taking hasty bites, for
he had begun his breakfast supposing that Jimmy would come presently.
"He left as soon as you went home last night," she said, "and he
has not come back yet."
Dannie did not know what to say.
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