Bony stood eating. Now and then he took a sip of liquor from a small glass. He and the storekeeper spoke in low tones.
“Another drop 'll warm ye,” said the storekeeper, as he poured more for him.
“It's as good as a hot stove,” said Bony, tipping his glass.
Soon we returned to the river and recrossed it with what Bony called “the cow.”
Silently, hurriedly, we put our horse in the shafts and made off on a smooth road. The moon had set, and we could not see our way. Bony let the horse have his head and hurried him along. Suddenly, in the near darkness, some one shouted: “Halt! Halt!”
Bony's whip fell savagely on the back of the horse, and the latter took the first leap in a wild run. For half a minute we were in a bad mess, and knew not how we were coming out of it. Pistols roared on both sides of us, and bullets whizzed above our heads. For possibly three minutes we flew down the dark road, our front wheels leaving ground with every jump. Then suddenly it seemed as if the stars were falling on us. We had struck something. The horse went down, and we plunged headlong into the darkness. I rose unhurt, and ran around the wagon just as Bony got up with a groan. We could hear our pursuers coming.
“Follow me,” my companion whispered. “We must take to the woods or go to jail. You're in it as deep as I am.”
I hesitated in a sort of panic. My head was hot and more incapable than ever. One allpowerful thought moved me: Bony had my watch and chain, and was making off with them.
“Come, you ——— fool—they'll shoot us down!”
Bony whispered, and I followed him.