"But he really ought to be punished. He certainly deserves ninety days in prison at the least," declared the young hunter.
"Let me go, Miss, I didn't mean nothin' wrong," whined the man who had called himself Perry Jounce.
"Let him go," said Victoria.
The hunter lowered his gun and the tramp passed into the outer air. He hurriedly left the vicinity, but before he had passed from sight, he turned his face toward the cottage, and shook a chinched hand toward the open door in which stood two forms—Victoria and August Bordine.
"Curse you, August Bordine!" hissed the coarse lips. "I'll make you repent this interference, I swear I will. You shall swing some day, and I'll be there to hear your neck crack!"
Then he turned about and disappeared in a clump of trees beside the road.
Victoria Vane and the young hunter were near enough to notice the movement of the baffled tramp, but neither heard his vindictive words. It might have been well for them had they done so.
Victoria clung to the young hunter's arm after the departure of Jounce, and seemed a long time in recovering from her fright.
"There's no further danger," declared Bordine, "so just calm your fears.
I will remain until your brother returns."
"You are very kind, August."