“In what manner, then, did you acquire this knowledge? You puzzle me, Hank—I can not understand you,” said Imogene, growing a little nettled at his cold, formal manner.
“That’ll all be explained to ye soon enough. In the meanwhile ye’ll mount and foller us,” he responded, at the same time making a gesture to his comrade to lead forward Imogene’s steed, which she had fastened near her place of concealment.
Depressed by the mysterious manner of Putney, Imogene, with a heavy heart, mechanically obeyed his order. The two ruffians stationed themselves on either side of her. These precautions looked suspicious, and a chill of fear crept over Imogene, as she witnessed them.
However, she quietly accompanied her companions, following wherever they led. During their journey she endeavored to draw her taciturn escort into a conversation, but without success. After a weary ride of several miles, stopping suddenly, she exclaimed:
“I will proceed no further, until you tell me whither you are leading me!”
“Ye won’t, eh! I’ll see about that.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“That, willin’ or unwillin’, ye must foller me.”
“Where?”
“To th’ place ye left this mornin’.”