"You're all safe," insisted the Squire, "and you're sure of good pay. I'd like to get the young rascal in the clutches of the law," added the speaker, with sudden vindictiveness, "and if ever I do, I'll promise to make it hot for him."
"You can trap him before a great while, I think, or at least get him in so tight a place that it will be safer for him to leave this part of the country."
"Well, if I can't run him to ground, I'd at least like to run him away," admitted the Squire, frankly.
"It's your best chance for winnin' the gal," said the horseman, with a meaning laugh.
"You keep an eye on his movements, and I'll attend to winning the girl," answered the other with a touch of resentment manifest in his tone. "Did you meet anybody between here and town?"
"No. Was you expectin' to overtake some one?" questioned the horseman.
"Well, nobody in particular," answered the Squire, evasively. "I was just thinking that there wasn't much travel over the road this morning."
"Not as much as there will be when there's no toll to pay," said the other, with a meaning laugh, as he rode away.
The girl, crouching amid the tall weeds, waited until the rattling vehicle was well over the intervening hill before she ventured from her hiding place. When she gained the road once more her face wore a grave and thoughtful look.
It was evident that mischief was brewing in this quarter for somebody. Who was it the Squire was so eager to get into the clutches of the law, and what band was this person about to join? It seemed to be some secret and illegal organization. No names had been called, yet a sudden subtle intuition warned Sally that she was, in point of fact, one of the interested parties to the conversation just overheard, and that the other person who had gained the Squire's avowed enmity, and for whose speedy undoing he was even now planning, was none other than his own nephew and her sweetheart—Milton Derr.