"Tut, tut! where would a woman come from this time o' night, and not a house within miles of us?"
"A woman's voice, I'll stake my head," insisted Frank, after a moment's silence in the room.
The mother had laid down her glasses. "Wonder if the boy thinks Lolita is coming through the storm to watch the old year out with him?" She laughed as at something that gave her much pleasure, though the rest did not share her merriment.
They were all three listening at door and window now, and when Frank threw the one nearest him quickly open, there came a sound through the din and fury of the rain-storm that was neither the howling of the wind nor the yelp of the coyote.
"Now what do you say?" asked Frank; and he had already passed through an inner apartment, and in a moment stood on the porch again, swinging a lantern and peering out into the dark and rain, listening for that cry of distress. It came in a moment—nearer than they had expected it.
"Help! help! oh, please come and help!"
"The d—l!" was old man Sutton's exclamation; not that he really thought the slender little figure perched on the back of the tall horse was the personage mentioned—it was only a habit he had of apostrophizing.
The horse had stopped short and was breathing hard, and the prayer for help was frantically repeated by the rider. "Come quick, and help the poor fellow; I've been gone so long from him—oh! do come!"
"What poor fellow—and where is he?" asked the old man, in bewilderment.