The girl, regarding her apologist with a singular mingling of pride and impatience, returned briefly:—
“I signaled.”
“Who did you signal to?” asked Bill gravely.
“The young gentleman I'm going to marry.”
A start, followed by a slight titter from the younger passengers, was instantly suppressed by a savage glance from Bill.
“What did you signal to him for?” he continued.
“To tell him I was here, and that it was all right,” returned the young girl, with a steadily rising pride and color.
“Wot was all right?” demanded Bill.
“That I wasn't followed, and that he could meet me on the road beyond Cass's Ridge Station.” She hesitated a moment, and then, with a still greater pride, in which a youthful defiance was still mingled, said:
“I've run away from home to marry him. And I mean to! No one can stop me. Dad didn't like him just because he was poor, and dad's got money. Dad wanted me to marry a man I hate, and got a lot of dresses and things to bribe me.”