Christine came running out and the two stood watching the approach of the men. “It’s John. Oh, John, John,” cried Alison running down to meet her brother. He checked his horse, and the girl eagerly sprang up to kiss him, standing in the big Mexican stirrup and clinging to his arm till they reached the door.
“Back again, safe and sound,” cried John, as Tina ran to him. “Just a scar, sis, to show that we’ve been where there was fighting. All well, girls? What’s your news?”
“News enough,” returned Alison with an emphatic nod at Ira. “It’s well you’re here, Master Ira, or there would be no more Louisa Sparks.”
Ira fairly turned pale under his tan. “What—what do you mean?” he said, jumping from his horse and never heeding where the creature went.
“Oh, it’s an odd tale, and you must hear it at once. Come in, boys. I know you must be hungry, and while you are eating we will tell you of the scheme Cyrus Sparks has been getting up. It does him credit almost every one thinks, but how it is going to turn out no one knows.” Then she gave a rapid account of the situation, Ira listening intently.
“And all the chances taken, you say?” He brought his hand down hard on the table.
“Every one.” Alison rather enjoyed his dismay.
“And we’ve been riding night and day to get here,” said John. “What does Lou say to all this?”
“She isn’t saying very much. If she hadn’t agreed, there was Jabez on one side bound to have her and Pike on the other ready to carry her off like a Goth and Vandal.” Reminiscences of her lessons in history gave Alison the comparison.
“But Ira,” began Christine, in spite of Alison’s frowns and shakes of the head, “Bud has taken two chances and you are to have one or both.”