“No, papa; no, no, no!” contested the daughter, earnestly. “I will go myself. I can go more quickly, you know.”
And, before he could expostulate, she had turned and tripped lightly up the bank, and in another moment had disappeared in the darkness.
As Isabel hurried through the woods toward the settlement, she murmured to herself:
“Poor papa and mamma! It goes to my heart to look upon them in their deep sorrow, conscious that I could relieve them of their trouble by a word. It is hard to deceive them, who love me so dearly, but I am sure they will forgive me when they know all. My case of trinkets I left for an excuse to return. God forgive me! I believe it is all for the best. I must hurry and get the case, and then keep my appointment with him.”
CHAPTER VI.
THE MYSTERY DEEPENS.
Jim McCabe had formed a villainous plot when he heard that the Morelands were about to remove down the river, and, now that they were gone, he proceeded at once to put it into execution. He had had this plot in his mind when he told Isabel that she would be in his power before the lapse of two days, and he vowed again and again to himself that his scheme should be carried out to the letter. He was a desperate man when aroused to a frenzy by repeated reverses, and, now that he had been cast off in anger by the woman he had hoped to win by fair means, he swore by all that was good and bad that she should be his in spite of all opposition. He had committed worse deeds than this he had in contemplation; therefore he did not hesitate to undertake it on the score of conscientious scruples.
That night, as soon as the Moreland family had set out for the river, McCabe went to his cabin, armed himself with a gun, pistol and knife, secured about his person an ample supply of ammunition, and otherwise equipped himself in a manner indicating a dangerous journey in view.
This done, which took considerable time, he left the fort without delay. As he passed out he stopped at the gate long enough to inform the sentry that he need not be expected back that night, as he would be gone two days or more. The sentry indulged in a prolonged whistle of surprise, and looked closely at the man, observing that his face was flushed redder than usual and that his eyes shone with an unnatural light.
“Whar the nation be ye goin’?” he asked, suspiciously.
“No matter,” muttered the villain, and then he hurried on to avoid further questioning, leaving the sentry to conjecture that “the blamed cuss was up to some new piece o’ deviltry.”