"I knew…. Oh, you're all wet. What happened to you? Oh, Tom!"
"Wet?" he said. "I've been wet for so long I've forgotten about it. You sit down there where you can see if anyone is coming." He pointed to a log. "I'll lie here and rest." He wrapped his cape about him, and stretched out on the ground. "I didn't want to come here, Marjorie, for fear I'd get you into trouble, but I was starved into it. Will you forgive me?"
[Illustration: "I didn't want to come here, Marjorie, for fear I'd get you into trouble.">[
"Oh, I'm glad you came. I've been worrying ever since you left. I didn't know what you were going to do, and I was afraid you'd be caught. Then the news of the raid and the stolen engine came. I knew that you were one of the men. Uncle didn't guess it until yesterday when he read about it in the Atlanta paper. Tell me about it—please!"
"What did your uncle say? How did he guess that I was one of them?"
"The paper said that some of the men were captured, and that they told the story about coming from Kentucky. When Uncle read that, he … he…."
"What did he do?"
"He swore terribly," answered Marjorie. "Aunty sent me from the room. But tell me about it. Oh, what's the matter, Tom?"
He had risen on his elbows, then fallen back on the ground. "Nothing," he said. "I'm dizzy, that's all. Every once in a while it strikes me. Wait a second, and I'll be all right."
She knelt beside him and touched his forehead. "You're feverish," she said.
"Oh, Tom … I … can't I do anything?"