"You forget that he will no doubt remember you as Rachel Carter. He will also remember that you had a little girl."
"Let me remind you that I remember the cold-blooded murder of John Hendricks and that nobody has been hung for it yet," she said. "My memory is as good as his if it should come to pass that we are forced to exchange compliments. Thank you for the information. The sheriff of this county is a friend of mine. He will be pleased to know that Simon Braley, murderer and renegade, is in his bailiwick. From what I know of Simon Girty's nephew, he is not the kind of man who will be taken alive."
He started. "You mean,—that you will send the sheriff out to arrest him?"
She shook her head. "Not exactly," she replied. "Did you not hear me say that Simon Braley would never be taken alive?"
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him to stare after her until she entered the kitchen door. He was conscious of a sense of horror that began to send a chill through his veins.
CHAPTER XV — THE LANDING OF THE "PAUL REVERE"
The Paul Revere tied up at the landing shortly after two o'clock. The usual crowd of onlookers thronged the bank, attention being temporarily diverted from an important game of "horseshoes" that was taking place in the sugar grove below Trentman's shanty.
Pitching horseshoes was the daily fair-weather pastime of the male population of the town. At one time or another during the course of the day, practically every man in the place came down to the grove to shy horseshoes at the stationary but amazingly elusive pegs. It was not an uncommon thing for a merchant to close his place of business for an hour or so in order to keep an engagement to pitch horseshoes with some time-honoured adversary.