He would indeed! The guerilla was very terrible to look upon as his brow corrugated, and his upturned eyes, with the light of the sky within them, flashed ominously.
"You little she-devil!" he cried, and then speech seemed to fail him.
She had begun to shiver and shed tears and emit little gusts of quaking sobs.
"Oh, I be so feared——" she whimpered. "But—but—you mustn't hang—nobody else on s'picion!"
There was a vague change in the expression of his face. He still stood beside the saddle, with the reins over his arm, while the horse threw his head almost to the ground and again tossed it aloft in his impatient weariness of the delay.
"An' now you are captured yourself," he said, sternly. "You are accountable fur your actions."
She burst into a paroxysm of sobs. "I never went ter tell! I meant ter keep the secret! The folks in the Cove dun'no' nuthin'. But—oh, ye mustn't s'picion nobody else—ye mustn't hang nobody else!"
Once more that indescribable change upon his face.
"You showed him the way to this pass yourself? Tell the truth!"
"He war ridin' his horse-critter—'tain't ez fast, nor fine, nor fat ez yourn."