The sharp crack of a rifle broke upon the still, balmy air, as they say in the "yellow-backs," and the fugitives looked at each other with suddenly awakened dread.
"The fools!" grated the man.
"What do they mean?" cried the breathless girl, very white in the face.
"They are trying to frighten us, that's all. Hang it! If I only knew the lay of the land. I'm completely lost, Marjory. Do you know precisely where we are?"
"Our home is off to the north about three miles. We are almost opposite Crow's Cliff—the wildest part of the country. There are no houses along this part of the river. All of the summer houses are farther up or on the other side. It is too hilly here. There is a railroad off there about six miles. There isn't a boathouse or fisherman's hut nearer than two miles. Mr. Bracken keeps his boat at the point—two miles south, at least."
"Yes; that's where we were to have gone—by boat. Hang it all! Why did we ever leave the boat? You can never scramble through all this brush to Bracken's place; it's all I can do. Look at my arms! They are scratched to—"
"Oh, dear! It's dreadful, Jack. You poor fellow, let me—"
"We haven't time, dearest. By thunder, I wouldn't have those Rubes head us off now for the whole county. The jays! How could they have found us out?"
"Some one must have told."
"But no one knew except the Brackens, you and I."