THE PARTING OF THE WAYS
"What's wrong, Sarah? What is it? What is it?" said Tom excitedly, as he drew near the almost breathless girl. "Has anything happened at the house?"
"Oh, Tom!" was all that Sarah at first could say. The reaction from her excitement and the swift pace at which she had been running had come, and the frightened girl burst into a flood of tears.
Tom looked on in helpless amazement. Sarah was usually such a strong and self-contained girl that her present distress was all the more perplexing. He looked at her a moment, feeling how utterly unable he was to comprehend the state of her feelings and how helpless he was to aid or comfort her. Benzeor might be faced; and even Fenton, in spite of the fear with which Tom regarded him, might be met; but a weeping girl was entirely outside the realm of all his previous experiences, and he stood leaning upon his gun, eager to do something to aid Sarah, and feeling a deep sympathy for her as he silently watched her.
Perhaps his silence was the very best aid he could offer, for in a brief time the resolute Sarah gained control of herself, and lifting her tear-stained face to that of the troubled lad by her side she said, "Oh Tom, they've killed Little Peter's mother!"
"What!" exclaimed Tom in amazement. "Killed her? You can't mean it! Who killed her?"
"Yes, they shot her, and have carried off his father, too."
"I don't understand, Sarah," said Tom more quietly. "Tell me about it."
"Little Peter came over to our house just a little while ago to leave the children, and he told us all about it. It seems, he was the lookout yesterday down by the Hook and didn't get home till it was almost light this morning.
"He said he went up to his room and laid down upon his bed, and must have gone to sleep, but he was waked up by the sound of the voices of men in the house. He jumped out of bed and listened, and pretty soon he heard one of them tell his mother that she must hand over the money she had hidden in a stocking up in the garret, and tell where his father was.