“Do you mean to say that they have taken Esmeralda away?” said Norman, in utter amazement.
Varley assented with a gesture and a groan.
“Why did you leave her unprotected?” asked Norman.
But he was sorry, a moment afterward, that he had allowed the question to escape him, for Varley looked as if he had been struck.
“She was not alone,” he said. “Mother Melinda was with her. They can both use a revolver as well as you or I. Esmeralda is a dead shot.” He glanced at the weapons on the wall of the hut. “She must have been lured outside, and they must have taken her suddenly by some trick, and before she could utter a cry; for, if she had shouted, some one would have heard her.”
“Why should they take her—Esmeralda?” asked Norman, still in the same awe-struck whisper.
Varley’s head drooped.
“Because it’s the deadliest blow Dog’s Ear could strike at us all,” he said. “We prevented them robbing the coach the other day, and this is their revenge.”
“The curs!” ground out Norman.
Varley started suddenly, as if awakening from the paralysis of anguish.