Whispering Smith
“He said Whispering Smith was coming.”
“My poor boy.”
“He is coming, don’t be afraid. Do you know Whispering Smith? He is coming. The men to-night all said he was coming.”
The little fellow for a long time could not be coaxed away from his father, but his companion at length got him to the kitchen. When they came back to the bedroom the strange man was talking to him once more about his father. “We must try to think how he would like things done now, mustn’t we? All of us felt so bad when we rode in and had so much to do we couldn’t attend to taking care of your father. Did you know there are two men out at the crossing now, guarding it with rifles? But if you and I keep real quiet we can do something for him while the men are asleep; they have to ride all day to-morrow. We must wash his face and hands, don’t you think so? And brush his hair and his beard. If you could just find the basin and some water and a towel—you couldn’t find a brush, could you? Could you, honestly? Well! I call that a good boy—we shall have to have you on the railroad, sure. We must try to find some fresh clothes—these are cut and stained; then I will change his clothes, and we shall all feel better. Don’t disturb the men; they are tired.”
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