CHAPTER XVIII
The Pryor Mystery
"And now old Dodson, turning pale,
Yields to his fate—so ends my tale."
It didn't take me long to see why Shelley liked Robert Paget. He was one of the very most likeable persons I ever had seen. We were sitting under the apple tree, growing better friends every minute, when we heard a smash, so we looked up, and it was the sound made by Ranger as Mr. Pryor landed from taking our meadow fence. He had ridden through the pasture, and was coming down the creek bank. He was a spectacle to behold. A mile away you could see that Thomas had told him he had seen Robert, and where he was. Father had been mistaken in thinking Mr. Pryor would go to the house. He had lost his hat, his white hair was flying, his horse was in a lather, and he seemed to be talking to himself. Robert took one good look. "Ye Gods!" he cried. "There he comes now, a chattering madman!"
"The Station," I panted. "Up that ravine! Roll back the stone and pull the door shut after you. Quick!"
He never could have been inside, before Mr. Pryor's horse was raving along the embankment beside the fence.
"Where is he?" he cried. "Thomas saw him here!"
I didn't think his horse could take the fence at the top of the hill, but it looked as if he intended trying to make it, and I had to stop him if I could.
"Saw who?" I asked with clicking teeth.
"A tall, slender man, with a handsome face, and the heart of a devil."