CHAPTER X.
A little before eight o'clock, while the young girl was still busied inthe kitchen with the supper dishes, for on court days this meal wasalways a late one, Squire Bixler again passed through the New Pike gateon his way to town.
Sally's mother raised the gate for him, and curious to know the cause ofhis speedy return, straightway began to ply him with questions. When shecame into the house after he had ridden on, the seal of secrecy beingthe price the Squire required of her for the information he hadimparted, she heaved so deep a sigh, and looked so full of melancholyforebodings that her daughter quickly inquired the cause.
"Nothin'," answered the old woman evasively, but the tone and heractions suggested quite the contrary. Indeed, her face bore theunmistakable impression of an impending disaster. The girl's curiositywas at once aroused and piqued by her mother's bearing and words.
"But there is certainly something troubling you," insisted Sally. "Youlook quite put out."
"Well," admitted the other grudgingly, "perhaps I am."
"Then what's the matter?"
"I'm under solemn promise not to tell anybody, not even you, but when aperson don't know what minute they're liable to lose the very shelterover their heads, it's high time for dismal looks I should say."
"Are we in any such danger?" asked the girl quickly.
"I'm not sayin' as we air or ain't," yet the speaker gave a most gloomyshake of her head along with the noncommittal answer.
"But you act like something serious was the matter."
"I can't well help showin' what's on my mind, I suppose."
"Then why on earth don't you say what's troubling you?"
"When you're told a thing, an' then told positively not to tell it, howis a person to do?" asked Mrs. Brown in dire perplexity. Her pledge tothe Squire was already beginning to weigh heavily upon her.
"I don't see why you hesitate to tell me," said Sally emphatically; "I'mnot a child that can't be trusted with a secret."
"I don't see the harm myself in your knowin' it," acknowledged hermother, "and that, too, when you'd be sure to find it out in a mightylittle while, for as soon as the guards come, you'd know that somethin'was wrong."
"The guards?" echoed the girl. "Then it's something about the raiders?"
"I didn't say," answered her mother with exasperating evasiveness.
"But it is," cried the girl. "Surely I've quite as much right to know asyou. Don't it concern me equally as much?"
"Of course, but then the Squire didn't seem to want to make you uneasyany sooner than was necessary. That's why he cautioned me about tellin'you, I suppose."
"And very thoughtful it was of him, too," declared the girl withshrewdly feigned graciousness. "So it was the squire that told you aboutthe raiders?"
"Yes, and it goes to prove how much he really thinks of you, not to wantyou worried."
"That's true," the girl's manner took on a careless indifference, "Hewas speaking to me the other day about the raiders; what did he have tosay to you?" she asked in an off-hand way that threw the mother quiteoff her guard for the moment.
"He was sayin' that he feared you'd be badly frightened if you knew theraiders would be here tonight."
"Tonight?" cried the girl excitedly, no longer acting a part.
"There! I've gone and let the cat out of the bag, after all!" exclaimedMrs. Brown in sudden contrition. "You partly guessed it, though. Ididn't tell you out and out." She came a little closer to Sally, whileher voice dropped to a tragic whisper. "Yes, the raiders air comin' thisvery night."
"How does he know?"
"He didn't tell me, but he's found out somehow."
"What will become of us?" cried her hearer in genuine apprehension.
"Dear knows!" answered her mother melting into tears at the thought ofthe impending raid. "We'll likely have the roof burned over our veryheads, and tomorrow will find ourselves without a shelter."
"Well, there, don't worry!" urged the girl, touched by her mother'sevident distress of mind. "There's another shelter been offered us, ifthe worst comes to the worst."
"Whose?" questioned Mrs. Brown quickly, for the moment forgetful ofimpending danger in the thirst for further knowledge of this generousoffer. "Has the Squire offered us a home?" she questioned eagerly,eyeing her daughter askant.
"Yes, he has," acknowledged the girl with a little show of hesitation;"not that I mean to accept it," she added to herself, with a pretendedflare of courage that was far from real. "What does the Squire think theraiders will be apt to do?" she questioned, returning to the primarysubject under discussion.
"He don't intend they shall do us any harm if he can help it. He's goneto town now to get men to come an' guard the gate, an' he hopes to ketchthe last one of them lawless raiders before mornin'," declared theelder toll-taker.
"I hope not!" cried the girl impulsively as a sudden fear crossed herbrain.
"You hope not?" repeated Mrs. Brown in open-eyed wonder, turning on herdaughter in quick wrath. "Is Milt Derr one of them night riders that youtalk like that, Sally Brown?"
"Of course not, mother, else they wouldn't be coming _here_," answeredSally with quick wit to repair the slip of her tongue. "I mean onaccount of the trouble it would bring to a lot of innocent people," shehastened to explain. "Of course these raiders have friends and kinfolks,likely some of 'em acquaintances of ours up in the hills. Besides, theraiders think they're mightily down-trodden and oppressed, fortoll-rates _are_ high, there's no denying the fact."
"Sally Brown! I'm downright ashamed of you, that I am!" cried her mothersharply. "The idea of you takin' up for them miserable law-breakers, an'them tryin' to burn the very roof over our heads, an' take the dailybread out of our mouths. You must have gone clean daft."
"I didn't say I thought they were right," persisted Sally. "I said itlikely seemed so to them."
"An' you got no cause to say even that," insisted Mrs. Brown, "you,that's dependin' on a livin' by takin' of the toll. It's nothin' shortof downright treason!"