"Take him back—if I can reach him—take him back to the East and to God's country."
"Yes—maybe he'd be happy there. But when the spring comes to the city, Mary, wait till the wind blows in the night and the rain comes tappin' on the roof. Then hold him if you can. D'ye hear? Hold him if you can!"
"If he cares it will not be hard. Tell me again, if—"
"Shut up. What's that again?"
The sound was closer now and unmistakably something other than the moan of the wind.
Jacqueline turned in great excitement to Mary:
"Did McGurk hear that sound down the gorge?"
"Yes. I think so. And then he—"
"My God!"
"What is it?"
"Pierre, and he's calling for—d'you hear?"
Clear and loud, though from a great distance, the wind carried up the sound and the echo preserved it: "McGurk!"
"McGurk!" repeated Mary.
"Yes! And you brought him up here with you, and brought his death to Pierre. What'll you do to save him now? Pierre!"
She turned and fled out among the trees, and after her ran Mary, calling, like the other: "Pierre!"
