“Do ye need ter hev me holp ye?” she whispered, stooping till her lips again touched his ear.
For reply, Browning lifted himself cautiously and struggled slowly to his feet.
She smiled encouragingly, and stepped through the doorway, Bruce following close after her, as silently as he could. Thus he passed over the sleeping form of Sam Turner, and moved toward the outer air.
He scarcely ventured to breathe till they were both outside, under the flooding moonlight.
Here she took him by the hand, without speaking, and hurried him away from the cabin, into a path that led toward the hills and in the direction of the village.
“Hev you a knife?” she anxiously asked, stopping when they had gained the friendly shelter of the trees.
“Yes. Why?” inquired Browning, venturing to speak for the first time.
“’Case, ef you hev, I’ll slip back inter that thar room with it an’ lay it open on the floor, so that when Sam Turner hev come ter himself he’ll ’low ez how you cut them ropes an’ got away ’thout anybody holping ye.”
Browning took out his pocketknife, opened the biggest blade, and placed it in her hand.
“I’m ’bleeged ter ye!” she said.