“They won’t catch him. He’s pretty cute and knows how to put ’em off the track. We went down the road a piece and then we struck off into the woods till we came to a stream; he walked the horse through that stream, right down it till we came to another bit of road all trod down and full of horse’s tracks; he took that till we come to where there was two roads; then he made me ’light and took off the saddle and hid it in the bushes; then he gave his horse a cut and sent him galloping up one of the roads while we took the other and footed it a ways to a bit of woods; then we crawled through a fence and there we were.”
“What became of the horse?”
“He said somebody would bring him home, and if they didn’t he would go after him. He’s smart as an Injun, that dad of mine, if he ain’t much for looks.” Louisa spoke with some pride and it was evident that she had determined to make the best of it. “No body’ll get him,” she repeated. “He must have been suffering, too, with that head of his, but he never stopped going, jest trudged along like a soldier. Said he reckoned your shot kind of knocked him silly more’n it hurt him. Hero’s safe here and nobody’ll find any stolen horses on his place even if they should stop there. ’Tain’t so pretty down there as it is here and it’s terrible lonely. I reckon I can stand it, though, when I get used to it. But I am glad to get back and talk it all over with you.”
“And did you walk all the way back?”
Louisa nodded. “Thought it was best. Just followed the road. He told me how to get here, a short cut. It’s about five miles, I reckon. There, I’m cooled off, I’ll go in and see about dinner.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Christine. “You’ll just sit there and rest.”
Late in the afternoon Bud and Blythe, with—whom but Ira Korner?—came slowly up the road. They had picked up Ira on the way. He had returned home on a furlough, having been ill, and this was but the second time he had been out. He kept in the background till Bud had his say, for on the occasion of his last visit he had gone off in a little huff.
The men found Louisa in a clean frock and apron quietly knitting. “Got back, did ye?” was Bud’s greeting as he came stamping into the gallery. “We thought we’d meet up with ye. How far did ye go?”
“Oh, I went a piece down the road and then I came back,” Louisa told him. “There ain’t no use trying to catch a man on a horse. I’d ought to have taken Hero and gone after him.”
“So ye might have done—but he’d have got the better of ye, most likely. A gal, no matter how good her intentions, ain’t no match fer a full growed man. Well, we trailed him as far as the bayou and there we lost him. There was a trail further down and we followed that to the crossroads, but it turned out to be a horse of old Cy Sparks that got loose somehow and must have gone down to get water. Bill Hatchett caught him and took him back to Cy. Well, I suppose we’ve seen the last of John’s horses this trip.”