"I can think of none, but Jennie is hopeful that if she can see him alone he will permit her to do as she wishes."
"Does she contemplate walking the half-dozen miles or so to the camp of the cattlemen?" asked Sterry, in dismay.
"O, no; she expects to ride Mr. Sterry's mare."
"But—but—" stammered Monteith.
"She thought of all that," smiled the mother; "she took her saddle with her."
"Well, I'll be hanged if this isn't a little ahead of anything of which I ever heard or read!" was the only comment Monteith Sterry could make, as the full scheme unrolled before him.
"Jennie may fail," continued the proud parent, "but if she does, her situation and that of all of us will be no worse than before. If she fails, then you, too, Mr. Sterry, would have failed and lost your life without helping us."
"I am not prepared to admit that, but my part in the business seems to have passed beyond discussion."
Mrs. Whitney was about to continue her words when she ceased and faintly asked for a glass of water. Fred set down the candle and sprang to her help ahead of anyone, holding the glass, which was instantly brought, to her lips.
The poor woman had undergone great trials, as will be admitted, during the past few days. The excitement had sustained her until now something in the nature of a reaction came. Helping her to a chair, Fred affectionately fanned her, and did what he could to make her rally.