Chapter XXVIII. A Pilgrim, An Outlaw: The Spirit Detained

           

           ThecabhadnottravelledashortblockbeforeCarrie,settlingherselfandthoroughlywakinginthenightatmosphere,asked:

           “What’sthematterwithhim?Ishehurtbadly?”

           “Itisn’tanythingveryserious,”Hurstwoodsaidsolemnly.Hewasverymuchdisturbedoverhisownsituation,andnowthathehadCarriewithhim,heonlywantedtogetsafelyoutofreachofthelaw.Thereforehewasinnomoodforanythingsavesuchwordsaswouldfurtherhisplansdistinctly.

           CarriedidnotforgetthattherewassomethingtobesettledbetweenherandHurstwood,butthethoughtwasignoredinheragitation.Theonethingwastofinishthisstrangepilgrimage.

           “Whereishe?”

           “WayoutontheSouthSide,”saidHurstwood.“We’llhavetotakethetrain.It’sthequickestway.”

           Carriesaidnothing,andthehorsegambolledon.Theweirdnessofthecitybynightheldherattention.Shelookedatthelongrecedingrowsoflampsandstudiedthedark,silenthouses.

           “Howdidhehurthimself?”sheasked—meaningwhatwasthenatureofhisinjuries.Hurstwoodunderstood.Hehatedtolieanymorethannecessary,andyethewantednoprotestsuntilhewasoutofdanger.

           “Idon’tknowexactly,”hesaid.“Theyjustcalledmeuptogoandgetyouandbringyouout.Theysaidtherewasn’tanyneedforalarm,butthatIshouldn’tfailtobringyou.”

           Theman’sseriousmannerconvincedCarrie,andshebecamesilent,wondering.

           Hurstwoodexaminedhiswatchandurgedthemantohurry.Foroneinsodelicateapositionhewasexceedinglycool.

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