CHAPTER XXIV. RETRIBUTION
“He thought it was I burned out that, brand; did you notice what he said?” Val, as frequently happens in times of stress, spoke first of a trivial matter, before her mind would grasp the greater issues.
“He'll never make it,” said Kent, speaking involuntarily his thought. “There comes old Jake Bondy, now, down the hill. Still, I dunno—if Michael takes to the water all right—”
“If the sheriff comes here, what shall we tell him? Shall we—”
“He won't. He's turning off, don't you see? He must have got a sight of Man from the top of the hill. Michael's tolerably fresh, and Jake's horse isn't; that makes a big difference.”
Val weakened unexpectedly, as the full meaning of it all swept through her mind.
“Oh, it's horrible!” she whispered. “Kent, what can we do?”
“Not a thing, only keep our heads, and don't give way to nerves,” he hinted. “It's something out of our reach; let's not go all to pieces over it, pal.”
She steadied under his calm voice.