“Take that, then!” yelled Walker.
The report of a pistol echoed through the valley, and Jim fell without so much as a groan.
“And how do you decide?” asked Walker, turning and pointing his revolver toward Dick.
“I was only goin’ to help you. I ain’t no such foolish cuss as to think of marrying a fine lady like that! I’m all right!”
“Prove yourself so, and you shall have your thousand. Deceive me, and you share his fate!”
As Walker spoke he stepped to a clump of thick bushes, and drew a small boat from concealment. Handing Miss Hayward to a seat, and preceded by Dick, Walker entered, and the little craft swept gently along with the current, down the stream.
They had proceeded but a short distance, when Miss Hayward burst forth, and sung a wild, thrilling air, which echoed far and wide, through the valley and across the hills. There was something strangely beautiful in her song, and something still more strange in her actions. As each strain echoed over the hills, and gave back the ringing notes, she would start, and listen attentively, and a gleam of joy would lighten up her pale face, upon which a shade of disappointment would almost as soon appear. Her hearers sat in silence, and in apparent wonder.
“Those words are significant!” exclaimed Walker. “What is their import?”
“She’s going mad, too, I opine!” exclaimed Dick. “Better let her go!”
“Silence!” cried Walker. “Miss Hayward, do you think your voice will penetrate his retreat?”