But the team had turned into the branch road; and she must act at once. There remained but one thing for her to do: to leap out of the trap, and refuse to go farther with him. On the thought, she measured the distance to the ground, the speed of the trotting sorrels. Perhaps she moved a little. Or had he actually read her thoughts? For suddenly, but very quietly, he laid a hand on her shoulder.
“No!” he said. “You might really hurt yourself this time.”
She sank back in dismay, but with a thrill of admiration. What was this man, who knew her thoughts before she herself knew them, who mastered her––and despised her? She trembled, and was glad of the night that concealed her flushed face from him. As for her purpose, she was at the end of her resources. No confession, no plea would avail to shake his determination. She could do no more; and judgment was upon her––soon.
“Hold the reins, please!” commanded Haig.
He leaped out of the trap, opened the gate, and closed it when he had led the sorrels through. Then he climbed into the trap, and drove on. There was no moon. The ranch buildings lay huddled and indistinct in the dim starlight.
At the sound of the hoofs and wheels a man emerged from the stable, bearing a lantern. He hurried up to them, stumbling sleepily, and peering at the figures vaguely seen in the gloom.
“Here, Williams!” Haig said shortly. “Hold my team, will you! I’ll be only a few minutes.”
The lantern fell from the man’s hand, struck the ground with a clatter, and lay on its side, flaming and smoking.
“Pick it up!” ordered Haig.