“If she had come this way we should have seen or heard her,” said Quincy. “She must have gone towards Eastborough Centre. Come, Alice, I will get the carryall. If she is hurt she will not be able to ride her horse.”
Leading her horse, Quincy and Alice went to the Hawkins House.
“He takes it pretty cool,” said Strout to Hiram. “If she was my sister I'd ring the church hell, make up a party, and go in search of her dead body, for that's what they'll come back with.”
“I don't take no stock in that,” remarked Hiram. “She's used to horses, and she's a mighty bright, independent girl. She'll come home all right.”
“No doubt she's independent enough,” retorted Strout. “That runs in the family. But the horse, it seems, was independent too. Perhaps the Guv'nor will have a boxing match with him for his independence to a Sawyer.”
As Hiram went back into the store he said to himself: “That Strout's only a half-converted sinner anyway. He'll never forget the thrashing that Mr. Sawyer gave his man, Bob Wood.”
Quincy had Alice go to her room, for she was agitated and extremely nervous, and he asked Mrs. Hawkins to look out for her until his return.
With Andrew's help, the carryall was soon ready and Quincy drove to the store. What was his surprise to find Maude there, still on her horse, and apparently uninjured. With her, also on horseback was an attractive girl, a stranger to Quincy.
“I'm all right, Quincy,” Maude cried as he alighted, “but there would have been a funeral but for this young lady.”
Quincy, with hat in hand, bowed to the stranger. “I am deeply grateful for your valuable service, madam. To whom are we indebted for my sister's rescue from death?”