He lay awake all night, and when dawn broke he had
not yet decided whether he was going away or not. He really believed
he was losing his mind, but he did not care. He rose and sat at his
window. The sky along the eastern horizon was turning pale, and the
chickens were crowing and flapping their wings. He heard Bradley
lustily clearing his throat as he got out of bed. Later he heard him
in the kitchen making a fire. Westerfelt knew he would go out to the
barn-yard to feed and water his cattle and horses, and he wanted to
avoid him and his cheery morning greeting. Buttoning his coat round
his neck, he tip-toed from his room across the passage and went down
the street to the stable.
One of the big sliding-doors had been pushed aside, and in the back
yard he saw Jake washing a buggy, and heard Washburn in one of the rear
stalls, rattling his currycomb and brush together as he groomed a
horse. He went into the office. The outer door was closed, and it
would have been dark there, but for Washburn's lighted lantern which
hung on a peg over the desk. He sat down at the desk and tried anew to
think.
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