“I don’t like it very well myself,” Jessie admitted. “But Mr. Wilson thought we’d better not say a word to any one about my going—lest it should get to Mr. Horton’s ears some way, and he will drive around later in the morning and pick up the witnesses and bring them down. Oh, and Leslie, above all things, don’t forget the Bible. Be sure to put that in the wagon when Mr. Wilson comes.”
“Certainly I shall! Do you imagine that I would forget the one fundamental clause of our proving up?”
“No, of course you wouldn’t. Mr. Wilson said that he would go down with me—we could drive his fast horse down in the light cart, if only Joe were here to bring down our witnesses. But he isn’t, and I must go alone.”
It was evident that Jessie did not relish the prospect of taking a lonely night ride.
“I will leave the money—what little there is of it—for Mr. Wilson to bring down,” Jessie presently remarked. “Then, if I am held up, we will have saved that much, anyhow.”
“And much good it will do us, with our fundamental clause in the hands of brigands,” I retorted laughingly. For, indeed, there was about as much danger of a hold-up as of an earthquake.
“What a fuss you are making, Guard—what’s the matter?” Jesse said, in a tone of remonstrance, as she resumed the milking. The dog had been looking toward the house, growling and bristling, for some minutes. His response to Jessie’s remonstrance was a tumultuous rush toward the house, around the corner of which he disappeared. Presently we saw him bounding away into the oak scrub beyond, apparently in hot pursuit of some retreating object, for his voice, breaking out occasionally in angry clamor, soon died away in the distance.
“I hope there isn’t another wildcat after the chickens,” Jessie remarked, as, the milking finished, we started toward the house.
“I don’t think it’s a wildcat,” I said; “from all the legends we have heard lately, a wildcat would have stood its ground: more likely it was a polecat.”