“God has spoken to me,” was the simple answer.
“I’ve got a friend’ll be glad to hear that,” he said; and once more, in imagination, he saw Laura Sloly standing at the door of her home, with a light in her eyes he had never seen before.
“You’ll want some money for your journey?” Tim asked.
“I want nothing but to go away—far away,” was the low reply.
“Well, you’ve lived in the desert—I guess you can live in the grass-country,” came the dry response, “Good-bye—and good-luck, Scranton.”
Tim turned to go, moved on a few steps, then looked back.
“Don’t be afraid—they’ll not follow,” he said. “I’ll fix it for you all right.”
But the man appeared not to hear; he was still on his knees.
Tim faced the woods once more.
He was about to mount his horse when he heard a step behind him. He turned sharply—and faced Laura.