"It's a girl to see you, Miss Holliday!" the clerk called. "Says its awful pertickler and to come a-hurryin'!"
"Coming, coming!" Harry cried, as she hunted for her shoes under the edge of the bed. "Isita, of course," she told herself. "What can have happened? Has she actually escaped?" Her heart was thumping with suspense and hope as she snatched hat and coat and ran out. Isita was waiting at the foot of the stairs.
Harry saw that Isita's black eyes were actually glassy with fear, and that beads of sweat glistened on her forehead.
"Isita, dear!" she exclaimed. "What is it? Come upstairs and——"
"No! no! Not a moment! Come!" the girl cried in a rasping voice and, catching Harry's arm, pulled her toward the door. "Come. I'll tell you."
Too much astonished to dispute or question, Harry followed her to the street. No one in the office had seen them, and the street was empty. After a frightened glance up and down, Isita looked at Harry and opened her lips to speak. But twice she made an effort before a sound came. At last, hoarsely, came the words, "They're going to steal your team!"
"Steal my team!" Harry almost smiled with relief and stopped short, but Isita clasped her hands imploringly.
"Don't wait," she entreated; "there's not a moment to lose! I ran the second they left me and mother, but they'll be back soon."
"But wait. The horses are here. In Kinney's barn," Harry protested.