“It’s only me—Jude. I reckon I’m a fool, Uncle Jep. I know in reason there ain’t nothin’ the matter. But I jest couldn’t sleep, and I got up and looked through the house, and the boys is all gone, and I got sorter scared.”
He was with her almost instantly.
“I reckon they’re all over ’crost the gulch,” he said in his usual unexcited fashion, though she noted that he did not go back into his room, but joined her where she lingered in the dark outside.
“Of course they air,” she reassured herself and him. “Whar else could they be?”
“Now I’m up, I reckon I mought go over yon myself,” the old man said finally. “My foot hurts me this evening; I believe I’ll ride Pete. I took notice the boys had all the critters up for an early start in the mornin’.”
Both knew that this was a device for investigating the stables, and together they hurried to the huddle of low log buildings which served to house forage and animals on the Turrentine place. Not a hoof of anything to ride had been left. The boys would not have taken mules or horse to go to the still—so much was certain. In the light of the lantern which Jephthah lit the two stood and looked at each other with a sort of consternation. Then the old man fetched a long breath.
“Go back to the house, Jude,” he said not unkindly, putting the lantern into her hand; and without another word he set off down the road running hard.