“I'll report that threat to the police, so that they can see you properly hanged if you do,” retorted the Harvester, as he followed the girl.
“Where is his gun?” he asked as he overtook her. When he reached the house he told her to watch the door. He went inside, broke the lock from the gun in the corner, found the trunk, and swinging it to his shoulder, passed Henry Jameson and went back through the woods. The Harvester set the trunk in the wagon, helped the Girl in, and returned for the load he had dropped at her call. Then he took the lines and started for Onabasha.
The Girl beside him was almost fainting. He stopped to give her a drink and tried to encourage her.
“Brace up the best you can, Ruth,” he said. “You must go with me for a license; that is the law. Afterward, I'll make it just as easy for you as possible. I will do everything, and in a few hours you will be comfortable in your room. You brave girl! This must come out right! You have suffered more than your share. I will have peace for you the remainder of the way.”
She lifted shaking hands and tried to arrange her hair and dress. As they neared the city she spoke.
“What will they ask me?”
“I don't know. But I am sure the law requires you to appear in person now. I can take you somewhere and find out first.”
“That will take time. I want to reach my room. What would you think?”
“If you are of age, where you were born, if you are a native of this country, what your father and mother died of, how old they were, and such questions as that. I'll help you all I can. You know those things. don't you?”
“Yes. But I must tell you——”