CHAPTER XXIV.
After Steve Judson had gone rapidly down the hill to where his horse washitched and his companion was about to follow, Sally quickly put forth adetaining hand, and lightly touched him. "Milt!" she whispered.
Twice before, on this same night, he had heard that familiar voicecalling to him through the darkness, and there seemed something strangeand uncanny in its mysterious repetition. Was it a trick of his livelyimagination, or could there be something at fault with his brain? Yetthe touch reassured him. The presence must be something tangible.
"Sally!" he breathed in a low tone, filled with wonder.
"Yes, I'm here," she hastened to reply, at the same moment emerging fromthe dark angle of the wall and stepping to his side, while he stoodrooted to the path in utter amazement at her presence.
"Sally," he again said, taking her into his arms and softly kissing herlips. "Is it really you? What brought you to this lonely spot?"
"The fear that harm might come to you," she answered, simply.
"But how did you know I was here? How came you to find this secretplace?" he asked, still sorely puzzled.
"I'll tell you as you go back," she answered hurriedly. "There's no timenow. It's a long story. Let's leave this place as quickly as possible.It is a dangerous spot, and each moment we tarry increases the danger."
"But how in the world did you get here?" he persisted, as they starteddown the hill.
"I rode old Joe. He's hidden in the willow thicket down by the branch.He will carry double," she continued. "Let's go to where he's hitched,an' I'll take you as far as the New Pike Gate, then you can ride him tothe station, and take the first early train. Just turn Joe loose. He'llfind his way back home."
"Then it was you who called to me as I lay in the quarry, gagged andbound," said Milton, as they hurried onward through the darkness, Sallydirecting the way to the clump of willows, and as they went along shetold him something of what transpired during the eventful day.
"I was half tempted to believe I had heard a spirit voice," continuedher companion, tenderly, speaking of his own unhappy experiences at thequarry. "It seemed as if you had really spoken, yet, as I lay andlistened, I could not imagine how you could be so near me at that hourand place. It must be a dream, I reasoned, a blessed dream, born of thedarkness to cheer and comfort me in my last moments on earth, for such Ibelieved them to be. You cannot understand what a solace it was to me,even to feel that your spirit was near me."
"I did not intend that harm should come to you if I could prevent it,"said the girl, earnestly. "If worse had come to worst, I had a bulletfor Jade Beddow's heart, and one for Steve's, too," she added, withemphasis.
"Then you heard them go through the farce of trying me?"
"Every word of it. I was looking down into the quarry all the while.Once I drew a bead on that villain, Jade Beddow, but something promptedme to wait yet a little longer. How glad I am that I did so. For youare now free, and, thank heaven! there's no bloodstain upon my hands."
Soon Joe was gratefully turning his head toward home, though his burdenwas a double one.
"And so Steve is the real traitor?" said Milt, as Sally gave an accountof the interview she had overheard between the Captain and Steve in theravine near the latter's home.
"Yes, Jade Beddow worked on Steve's fears in order to make him lay thedeed at your door."
"It seems that Steve is not altogether bad. He still has a spark ofgratitude in his bosom, but was forced to make charges against me inorder to shield himself."
"Jade Beddow is at the bottom of it all," insisted Sally, "either he oryour uncle. They both want you out of the way, and will stop at nothingto carry out their plans. I don't know which is the greater villain ofthe two."
"Perhaps I'd better stay around here a day or two longer, and settlesome old scores before I go," said Milt, thoughtfully.
"No! no!" the girl interposed, hastily. "You must leave here to-night.There are far too many dangers threatening you here, besides, yourstaying would bring speedy vengeance on Steve Judson. Both his safetyand yours depends on your getting away as quickly and secretly aspossible. No one must see you go, no one must suspect you have gone."
"And if I go far away?" questioned Milton, with a deep touch oftenderness creeping into his voice, "if I find a home elsewhere, and canget steady employment, will you come to me when I shall send for you?"
"Yes," was the exultant answer that quickly arose to her lips, butsuddenly she remembered her promise to the Squire, and this bitterrecollection brought with it a sickening sense of the binding obligationshe was under for the sake of another's safety, and the unhappyknowledge stifled the one small word that was trembling for eagerutterance on her very lips.
"Will you come, sweetheart?" persisted the young man, in tones ofpersuasive tenderness, mistaking her silence for maidenly reserve, "orshall I come back for you when the time is at hand to claim you for myown?"
"No! no! Milt, you must not think of coming back, when once you aresafely away!" she cried impetuously.
"Then you will come to me?"
"Wait until you see what the future has in store," she answeredevasively.
"There's only one thing I care for it to have in store for me, and thatis _you_. You will come to me?" he persisted.
"If nothing prevents, I will come," she stammered. "But one cannotalways tell what lies before."
"What is there to prevent?" he demanded, sharply, a ring of jealousycreeping into his tones. "What could there be?"
"A hundred things might arise that we know nothing of now," she answeredhurriedly, understanding full well that she stood on most dangerousground, that to confess to her lover the one thing that stood in the wayof her going, would be to shatter all the plans she had laid for his ownsafety.
She knew that rather than have her keep faith with the Squire, thenephew would deliberately give himself up to the officers of the law,and loudly proclaim the ownership of the hat which was about to costSally so great a price. No hope could she have to get her sweetheartaway did he but suspect the sacrifice she was about to make for hissake. Neither prayers nor entreaties could avail in the face of suchknowledge.
For one brief moment a thought of escape came to her. She was sorelytempted to break her promise with the Squire, to delay her marriage withhim, finding one excuse and another until she could hear from the absentone, and make her preparations to join him. Then all might yet end well.
But there was her mother to be considered. She was about to forget thisvery important item in such an arrangement. What would become of hermother, should Sally do such a thing? She could not be left to theSquire's wrath, nor could she go along with her daughter. It seemed themeshes of fate were drawing tighter and tighter around the girl. Allavenues of escape appeared closed to her.
"To-day and to-night have been too trying for me!" cried Sally, wearily."We both know what the past has been, we neither can tell about thefuture, so let us talk only of the present. That concerns us most."
"But I don't understand," began Milton. "This seems a new mood. It isn'tlike you, Sally. You don't mean that you are beginning to care less forme?"
"Have I acted to-night as if I was?" she asked sharply; his words hadstung her into sudden resentment. "Did my going to the old desertedquarry for your sake, look as if I was caring less?"
"No! no! forgive me!" he cried, humbly, abashed by the reproof of herwords. "I did not mean that. I know your heart is mine, else you wouldnot have been the brave and fearless girl you were to-night. God blessyou!"