A minute or two later there was a murmur of voices below, and Allonby went out. Nobody appeared to notice this, but the hum of somewhat meaningless talk which followed and the strained look in one or two of the women’s faces had its meaning. Every eye was turned towards the doorway until Allonby came back and spoke with Torrance apart. Then he smiled reassuringly upon his guests.
“You will be pleased to hear that some of our comrades have laid hands upon one of the leaders in the attack upon the jail,” he said. “They want to lodge him here until they can send for the Sheriff’s posse, and of course I could only agree. Though the State seems bent on treating us somewhat meanly, we are, I believe, still loyal citizens, and I feel quite sure you will overlook any trifling inconvenience the arrival of the prisoner may cause you.”
“Doesn’t he put it just a little curiously?” suggested Flora Schuyler.
“Well,” said Christopher Allonby, “it really isn’t nice to have one of our few pleasant evenings spoiled by this kind of thing.”
“You don’t understand. I am quite pleased with your uncle, but there’s something that amuses me in the idea of jailing one’s adversary from patriotic duty.”
Christopher Allonby smiled. “There’s a good deal of human nature in most of us, and it’s about time we got even with one or two of them.”
“Find out about it, Chris,” said Miss Allonby; “then come straight back and tell us.”
The young man approached a group of his elders who were talking together, and returned by and by.
“It was done quite smartly,” he said. “One of the homestead boys who had fallen out with Larry came over to us, and I fancy it was Clavering fixed the thing up with him. The boys didn’t know he had deserted them, and the man he took the oats to believed in him.”
“I can’t remember you telling a tale so one could understand it, Chris,” said Miss Allonby. “Why did he take the oats to him?”