"No, you can not; at least just now. Remain here until I send." Then to the leader of the vigilantes: "Well, sir, I am ready."
"Your horse?"
"Is in the stable—my bay, I mean. The other was stolen."
"Stolen?"
"I told you as much, at the meeting."
"Well; Crane, bring him out," and then McGuire drew aside with two men, to whom he appeared giving some instructions, in a low, guarded voice.
The horse of the prisoner was brought forth, and when he had mounted, they filed from the dooryard, and closing up around their captive rode away, with the exception of the two men spoken to by McGuire, who soon after entered the building.
The little cavalcade proceeded at a rapid trot toward the "Twin Sycamores," while the curious, half-affrighted gazes that followed them from each house as they passed, told that a rumor of their mission had spread like wildfire. All this was not unnoticed by the prisoner, and he drew himself erect with a prouder more haughty air, as if he would thus repel the ignominy that rested upon him.
Poynter's mind was not idle, and he realized that his liberty, if not life, was in jeopardy; and that, too, when freedom was most inestimable. He did not know what charges would be brought against him; but it was evident that the hint given by Neil McGuire regarding the Kentucky vigilantes troubled his mind not a little.
In a few minutes the party drew rein in front of the "Twin Sycamores"—so named from the two gigantic trees of that species growing upon either side of the door—where stood "Honest Jim." The captain whispered a few words in his ear.