He gasped audibly at what he saw, so that several people nearby looked curiously around. Realizing his error, he stood completely still until the people he had disturbed turned their attention back to the gallows.
Again he looked at the woman. She was no half insane old hag, a busybody who had meddled her way into a witchcraft trial, but a bewildered, fearful young woman who couldn't have been more than 18 or 19 years old.
Her hands were tied behind her back, pulling her bulky dress tight across her bosom. Her tangled, matted, black hair, the dirt on her face, her wrinkled disheveled clothing could not hide a great natural beauty.
But what affected Nat most, was the look on her face. It was that of a frightened, helpless animal, cornered by a vicious, heartless predator.
The self-righteous bearing of the tall man, the lack of sympathy and idle curiosity mirrored in the faces of the crowd infuriated Nat.
Impulsively he had used his paralysis ray, an instrument that was designed only as a last resort when a time traveler needed to beat a quick retreat unnoticed. While the entire gathering was in a suspended state, he had carried Abby away from the gallows, and clocked away in the time machine.
Now, completely confused, he was sitting worriedly in the warm sunshine of 18th century Mexico, wondering what to do.
Abby's approach broke his reverie. She seemed almost lost in one of his spare one-piece coveralls. She was carrying her own garments, dripping wet, on her arm. In modesty she had put her own quaint shoes on again.
Her dark hair curled wetly about her shoulders, and the exertion of bathing and washing her clothing had left a becoming flush on her cheeks.
"Feel better, Abby?" he asked in a light-hearted manner he didn't feel.