they carried me through the raw wet air to the army surgeon's quarters
beyond the soldiers' barracks.

A chill and fever followed, and for a week there was only pain and
trouble for me. Nothing else hurt quite so deeply, however, as the fear
of being left behind when the Clarendens should start for Santa Fé. I
would ask no questions, and nobody mentioned the trip, for which
everything was preparing. I began at last to have a dread of being left
in the night, of wakening some morning to find only Mat and myself with
Aunty Boone in the little log house. Uncle Esmond had already been away
for three days, but nobody told me where he had gone, nor why he went,
nor when he would come back. It kept me awake at night, and the loss of
sleep made me nervous and feverish.

One afternoon about a week after my accident, when Beverly and Mat were
putting the room in order and chattering like a couple of squirrels,
Beverly said, carelessly:

"Gail, it's been a half a week since Uncle Esmond went down to our other
store in Independence, and we are going to start on our trip just as
soon as he gets back, unless he sends for me and Jondo."

I knew that he was trying to tell me that they meant to go without me,
for he hurried out with the last words. No boy wants to talk to a
disappointed boy, and I had to clinch my teeth hard to keep back the
tears.

"I want to get well quicker, Mat. I want to go to Santa Fé with
Beverly," I wailed, making a desperate effort to get out of bed.