He at once passed inside the hut. Taking hold of Viola, he was leading her to the opening, when Elmira Turner, seized hold of the girl to keep her in the room. A struggle ensued. Jasper did not want to strike the Turner woman or treat her roughly. So he was compelled to force Viola from her grasp by main strength. This he did, and taking his betrothed in his arms, stepped out into the sunlight.
Just then the sound of a shot rang out on the stillness of the summer air, and Viola became limp and apparently lifeless in her lover's arms.
Zibe Turner, the monster dwarf, had come to the clearing in the nick of time. He saw the open door. He beheld the rescuer bearing out the captive in his arms. Murder sprang up at once in his heart. He decided to kill the preacher then and there. This he had wanted to do for a long time. But the excitement of the occasion and his own dreadful hate unsteadied his nerves a trifle. When putting his rifle to his shoulder, he aimed at Very's heart, crying out: "Dat's my holt!" The bullet missed its mark, and entered the right shoulder of the lovely Viola.
When the dwarf saw the unexpected result of his shot, even his resolution failed him, and he proceeded no further with his murderous work.
Jasper Very looked down on the senseless form of his beloved, and cried out in the bitter agony of his soul: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
Holding her as he would a little child in his arms, he strode out of the clearing. Quickly coming to his horse, Bob, he unhitched his rein, and holding the unconscious girl tenderly but firmly in his left arm, he swung into the saddle.
With anguish in his soul and unaccustomed tears in his blue eyes, he pressed one kiss upon the pale lips of her who was dearer to him than life. Holding her in as comfortable position as possible, he started down the knob.
Viola gave little if any signs of life. She was wholly unconscious, her face was as pale as death, her eyes were closed, there was no perceptible pulse.
Jasper rode as carefully as possible, but was a considerable time reaching the more open section of the country. At last he came to the very primitive road along which he had not ridden far, when he beheld approaching the horse and buggy he had requested Susanna to get.
Susanna was the driver, and was amazed at what she saw—her Sunday School teacher lying like one dead on the preacher's arm.