“You’ll have to answer for that to me!” cried Ben, and with a stride he struck the man with his huge fist, and prostrated him.
“Dad, shall we string ’em up?” he asked, turning to his father. “He’s insulted mother.”
What Mr. Peters would have said is problematical, but Noel Brooke interposed earnestly, “No, no, Mr. Peters, let them go! They’re both wounded, and that will be punishment sufficient.”
“Just as you say, stranger! It’s your hosses they tried to steal.”
“But they insulted mother,” insisted Ben.
“Let ’em go!” said Mrs. Peters contemptuously. “They’ll remember the old witch for some time, I reckon!”
The men looked as if they would like to strangle her, but they were prudent enough to keep their mouths shut.
“Now scoot!” exclaimed Peters, in a threatening tone. “If I ever catch either of you within a mile of my cabin, I’ll shoot you down like dogs.”
The two thieves waited for no further hint, but, helping each other as best they could, struck into the woods.
“Mrs. Peters,” said the tourist, turning to his hostess, “I feel very much indebted to you for your prompt action. But for you Gerald and I would be forced to walk till we could secure fresh horses.”