Meek little Mrs. Muirhead came out to meet them, and with a frightened air replied to the questions put to her. No, Hump wasn’t at home; he had gone off the night before, hunting, he said; had come back to breakfast, and then had ridden in the direction of Mayo’s.
“Was he alone?” asked the doctor.
“When he went to Mayo’s? Yes.”
“No, I mean when he came in this morning.”
Mrs. Muirhead twisted her fingers nervously and looked furtively toward the house. “No, he wasn’t,” she informed them in a low tone. “There was half a dozen men with him. They were in the house for a while.” She saw them coming, but they went in the front way, and Hump had told her to keep away, that if she dared to disturb them or go into that room where they were, she’d never go in there again. He didn’t mean that, of course; he often talked so, but she thought she’d better keep out of any fuss. They went away later; she heard, but did not see them, and after Hump had his breakfast he went, too, but the door was bolted and locked.
“When will he be back? Did he say?” questioned Agnes.
“Oh, soon.”
“We will wait, then.”
Mrs. Muirhead nervously asked them to come into the kitchen, an invitation which Agnes and the doctor accepted. “We’ll keep watch outside,” said Dod Hunter, in an undertone.
Agnes responded by a nod. The girl looked pale and tired from her long tramp and from the strain put upon her, and she gratefully accepted the drink of milk which Mrs. Muirhead timidly proffered her guests. The three or four little children stood around open-eyed. Honey, with a cry of joy, had run to Agnes, and she took comfort in sitting with the child cuddled up to her.