“How do you know unless you were there?” Alison was quick to draw her conclusions.
Pike saw his mistake. “Old Cy tol’ me so hisse’f,” he replied.
“Why did he? He was anxious enough to keep the matter quiet and unless you were in cohoots with him he never would have told it. I suppose you were one of the men who got away, and if so what have you done with my brother’s horses? I always suspected you were some kind of rascal.”
The man approached her with clenched fist, but Alison slipped behind a table and drew forth the pistol she always carried. “I’ll blow out your brains if you touch me,” she cried.
“Two kin play at that game,” said Pike, whipping out his own pistol. “It’s a duel, is it?”
“What a fine, brave, manly person you must be to want to fight a girl who has never done you any harm, who has been on no wrong errand,” cried Alison. “Why do you want to stain your soul with my blood? Will it make you any worthier of Louisa that you murder her best friend?”
Pike lowered his pistol with a short laugh. “I only wanted to skeer ye. Ef ye promise ter say nothin’ of this to nobody and not ever mention that other time ye was jest talkin’ about, I’ll not harm ye this time.”
It was decidedly an occasion when discretion was the better part of valor, and Alison gave the promise. Pike without another word stalked out, leaving the girl alone with the old woman. Presently the sound of his horse crashing through the chaparral told them he had gone. Alison seized the old woman’s hands. “I am safe,” she cried, “but I do not know my way home.” She ran to the door, half expecting to find Chico gone, but there he stood nibbling at the bushes. She waited a moment to be sure that Pike had really departed, then she mounted her horse without protest from the woman, whom she bade adieu with a feeling of thankfulness.
It had grown much darker and there was no road, only straggling paths hard to discern. In what she believed to be the right direction Alison turned, her little horse gallantly making his way through the difficulties of an unbroken road. After a while, when the girl felt that they had traveled long enough to have reached the main road, poor though it actually was, there was still no evidence of it, but afar off she saw a light, and made towards it. To be sure, it might be out of the frying-pan into the fire she reflected, and she might be walking directly into a den of thieves; but on the other hand night was coming on, there were prowling beasts to fear and she was willing to take her chances. She drew nearer and nearer to the light and presently she saw it came from a camp-fire, and that around it were several figures. She went a few paces further and listened, hoping to gain some idea of what manner of persons these were. While she waited, half fearing to make her presence known, a woman’s voice arose, singing shrilly: “How firm a foundation,” and emphasizing the words as she moved about. A great sense of relief swept over the girl who, without further hesitation, rode into the small encampment. A large white-covered wagon stood at a short distance; some men were gathering wood to feed the fire, a woman with frying-pan in hand was preparing the evening meal, two or three little children at her heels. At the sudden apparition of a girl riding out of the depths of the wood the woman gave a startled exclamation. “La, where did you come from?” she asked. “We didn’t think there was a house within miles.”
“Maybe there isn’t,” said Alison. “I’ve lost my way. Can you tell me if I am near the road to Denton?”