"I must have air—fresh air," suddenly moaned Rosalie from her corner, the strain proving too great for her nerves. Bill strode over and looked down upon the trembling form for a full minute. "Take me outside for just a minute—just a minute, please. I am dying in here."
"Lemme take her out," cackled old Maude. "I'll give her all the air she wants. Want so—some air myself. Lemme give her air, Bill. Have some air on me, pardner. Lemme—"
"Shut up, Maude!" growled Bill, glancing uneasily about the cave. "I'll take her up in the cabin fer a couple of minutes. There ain't no danger."
Davy protested, but Bill carried his point, simply because he was sober and knew his power over the half-stupefied pair. Davy let them out through the trap, promising to wait below until they were ready to return.
"Are you going away?" whispered Rosalie, as they passed out into the cold, black night.
"Sh! Don't talk, damn you!" he hissed.
"Let me go too. I know the way home and you need have no fear of me. I like you, but I hate the others. Please, please! For God's sake, let me go! They can't catch me if I have a little start."
"I'd like to, but I—I dassent. Sam would hunt me down and kill me—he would sure. I am goin' myself—I can't stand it no longer."
"Have pity! Don't leave me alone with them. Oh, God, if you—"
Moaning piteously, she pleaded with him; but he was obdurate, chiefly through fear of the consequences. In his heart he might have been willing to give her the chance, but his head saw the danger to itself and it was firm.