"
The girl passed on. She found Washburn in front of the stable oiling a
buggy. He had placed a notched plank under an axle and was rapidly
twirling a wheel.
"Where is Mr. Westerfelt?" she asked.
He raised his eyes to the window in the attic. "Up thar lyin' down.
He's not in bed. He jest threw hisself down without undressing."
"Is he asleep?"
"I don't know, Miss Harriet, but I think not."
"Did they hurt him last night, Mr. Washburn?"
"Why, no, Miss Harriet, not a single bit."
She caught her breath in relief. "I thought maybe they had, and that
he was not going to acknowledge it. Are--are you sure?"
"As sure as I could be of anything, Miss Harriet; I believe he is a
truthful man, an' he told me they didn't lay the weight of a finger on
'im. You kin go up an' ax 'im. He ain't asleep; he looked too worried
to sleep when he got back. He walked the floor the balance o' the
night. Seems to me he's been through with enough to lay out six common
men."
Harriet did not answer. She turned into the office and went up the
stairs to Westerfelt's room.
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