"She got away without my knowing it. But maybe it's not too late. I can catch up with them if I hurry. Hey, Zachariah!"
"Then, you know where she is?" cried the girl, grasping his arm as he turned to rush away. "For goodness' sake, tell me! Where has she gone?"
"Why, don't you—But of course you don't!" he exclaimed. "You poor girl! You must be almost beside yourself,—and here I go making matters worse by—"
"Where is she?" she broke in, all the colour going from her face as she shook his arm impatiently. "Come in the house," he said gently, consolingly. "I'll tell you all I know. There's nothing to be worried about. She will be home, safe and sound, almost before you know it. I will explain while Zachariah is saddling Brandy Boy." He laid his hand upon her shoulder. "Come along,—dear."
She held back. "If anything happens to her and you could have—" she began, a threat in her dark, harassed eyes.
"I had no idea she would start at such an unearthly hour. I had made up my mind to go with her, whether or not. Didn't she tell you she had made an affidavit against Martin Hawk?"
"No. The sheriff was up here last night, just after supper, but,—Oh, Kenny, what is it all about?"
His arm stole about her shoulders. She leaned heavily, wearily against him as they walked up the drenched path.
"Have you any idea at all what time she left the house?" he asked.
"I heard her go down the stairs. It was pitch dark, but the clock struck one quite a long time afterward. I did not think anything about it then, because she often gets up in the middle of the night and goes down to sit in the kitchen. Ever since father died. I must have gone to sleep again because I did not hear her come back upstairs. I awoke just at daybreak and got up to see if she needed me. She—she had not gone to bed at all, Kenny.—and I couldn't find her anywhere. Then I thought that Martin Hawk and the others had come and taken her away by mistake, thinking it was me in the darkness."