The men plainly were ill at ease, and it was evident that they still were listening expectantly. Finally, one of the men saddled his horse and rode back, he soon being lost to sight among the rocks.
“Those ruffians really fear that they are being followed,” muttered Grace, barely loud enough for Emma, for whose ears the words were intended, to hear. “They have sent that fellow back to take an observation. I wonder if they have good reason for thinking that they are being followed?”
“Why can’t we cut and run?” suggested Emma.
“There is nothing to hinder our doing so, except that we probably should be shot before we reached yonder rocks.”
“There comes Belle now!” whispered Emma excitedly.
“Keep quiet, please, and let me do the talking,” advised Grace.
The woman was approaching the two girls at a rapid step, an expression in her eyes that Grace Harlowe did not like. In repose, Belle’s face, while regular, and rather attractive at first glance, showed hard lines, particularly about the mouth, indicating that, when occasion demanded, she could be hard and merciless. The expression that the face of their captor wore as she came towards them gave promise that the present might be such an occasion.
Belle halted before the Overton girls and stood regarding them through narrowed eyelids. Then she spoke, and what she had to say brought a pallor to Emma Dean’s face, and stirred the fighting instincts of Grace Harlowe to the danger point.