No sooner were the girls seated in the conveyance, the storm-robes being drawn about them, than Elizabeth turned to her companion with eager questioning. She was quivering with suppressed excitement.
Nora, on the contrary, was quite calm. She had made her plans, and now saw her way clear to carry them out. Her self-confidence spared her unnecessary alarm. However, appreciating Elizabeth’s state of mind, she at once explained the condition of affairs at Bitumen. She was sufficiently tactful to tell her only that which was necessary for her to know. She also warned her to be careful what she said should anyone stop them on the road.
“If we meet the strikers, they will help us along because I am the daughter of Dennis O’Day. But they must not know who you are. On the other hand, if we meet anyone else, you are to impress them with the fact that you are Superintendent Hobart’s only child, and that you must reach Bitumen to-night.”
Turning to Jefferies, she urged him to keep the horses moving. “I know the carriage will be ruined, and the horses laid up with stiff joints for a week or more; but I’ll pay for that. Get us to Bitumen before daylight, and Mr. McCantey may make the bill what he chooses.”
Although they were moving as fast as it was possible it seemed but a snail’s pace to Elizabeth. She could realize nothing but that her father was in danger. After hearing Nora’s reasons for this sudden journey, she spoke no word but sat rigid, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was leaning forward, trying to pierce the darkness of the road before them. The rain beat into her face. Her cap and veil were drenched but she heeded them not.
Determined to make the journey a trifle less strenuous for Elizabeth, Nora kept up a continuous flow of talk. It mattered little about what; only that there was no silence, but Elizabeth might as well have been a wooden girl so far as listening to her companion was concerned. They left the flat country roads, and began ascending the mountain. The road was so narrow that heavy logs had been placed for safety along the outer side.
For the first time since the beginning of their journey Jefferies spoke: “We should make better time here. The roads are well enough trained, and we would if I could see a yard ahead of me. I’ll let the horses go their own gait—they’re sure-footed enough. All we’ve got to do is to trust in Providence. I’ll get you there or kill the horses in trying.”
At last, at the opening of a small ravine, the road broadened. The horses sprang forward.
Suddenly Elizabeth, still looking eagerly ahead, exclaimed, “I see a light! It looks like a lantern.”
The click of the horses’ hoofs upon the stones rang loud and clear. Jefferies drew them up. He leaned over sidewise to peer about. “I was trying to see just where we are. Oh, we’re all right. That light hain’t no lantern. That’s where Ketchomunoski lives. We’ll go on. He may come out if he hears us go by. I’ll go slow and whip up just as we reach his shanty.”