"Well!" said the bartender, and held up the revolver in wonder. "I never thought I'd live to kill a man!" He looked to see how the others had taken it, but they were paying no attention to him. He saw Jan holding the baby and trying to hush its little cries for its mother, while the baby's mother was pressing the tips of her fingers gently against the upper part of the injured woman's right breast.
"You mustn't die! You mustn't die!" Jan said when the baby would let him.
"I don't want to die--not now!" she answered.
The Finn woman looked up and smiled at Jan. "Not die. No, no--not die."
The raft grounded gently on the beach. Jan took the wounded girl and set out for the top of the sand-hill with her. The bartender took the baby and toiled behind with its mother.
"Say," said the bartender, "you're all right! How many more children to home?"
"Home?" She held up seven fingers. "And him," pointing to the baby.
"Great Stork! Here!" He set down the baby, drew out the bar-money and offered it to her. "When a ship goes down, I heard a sea-lawyer say once, all debts go with her. And that must mean all credits go too. Anyhow we'll make it so now. Here--for you."
"Me? No, no. I have husband. Fine job--dollar-half day."
"Dollar an' a half! It's too much for the father of eight children for one day! But this--see. For baby. And the Lord knows a baby who came through last night and never a yip out of him, he oughter get a million. Here--put in bank--for baby."
"Ah-h! For baby. Tenk you." She beamed and took the money. "You brave man! Him"--pointing to Jan's back--"brave man too."
"Him, brave--yes. But me? No, no. Me scared blue. He'd 'a' shot me next only I beat him to it."
The sun was well up when they reached the top of the hill--a pale, frightened-looking sun, but nevertheless a sun. The bartender took off his cap and saluted it gravely. Below them lay the town.
"We'll go down there," said Jan to Mrs. Goles, "and from there, when you're well, we'll go home--to my mother. But," he added gravely, "we will go by train."
She smiled weakly at him. "I could go without a train--on my hands and knees I could crawl to the mother of you! You don't know it, but when I was growing up it was a man like you I always used to dream about. And I'm not sure I'm not dreaming now!"