She carried the flag into the house and lighting the lamp, examined it. In it were half a dozen bullet-holes. Then she ate a hastily prepared breakfast and set out into the woods. Once more daybreak was at hand, and this time she would not miss the road to the settlement.
CHAPTER VII
“MAMMY’S BOY”
Herbert Scott was not a coward—indeed, his errand, deep in the woods above the Baring house on the afternoon when Colonel Thomas came to see Elizabeth, proved him courageous.
His anonymous and unpleasant communications had not been threats or warnings, but taunts. The mountaineers seemed to have come to the conclusion that he was worth nothing, that he was a mere appendage attached to the proverbial apron-string of his sister.
The taunts were never uttered when Elizabeth was within hearing. Herbert, bending over a garden-bed, heard from the woodland a shrill “Mammy’s boy! Mammy’s boy!” then a laugh. At first he had walked directly toward the sound, but he never could see who had uttered it. He knew, sometimes, that the speaker receded before him; there was a rustle in the leaves and underbrush, and sometimes the call was repeated at increasing distances. But more often, he could neither see nor hear a living soul.
But now, on the afternoon when he had gone to look up the boundary lines, the taunts changed to a more serious approach. Suddenly he found himself looking into a gun-barrel. He recognized at once the holder of the gun and stood still. He did not throw up his hands or make any sign of surrender, but he felt the blood recede from his heart.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want that paper,” answered Sheldon, sullenly and with determination. There was also another quality in the thick tones—could it be fright?