Betty's brain became clearer. There was no longer blackness before her eyes.
"Here, drink this," said the woman, raising Amy by her shoulders, and holding a glass of water to her lips. The gag had been removed. Amy drank and a little color came into her face.
"Where—where am I? What happened?" she faltered.
"Nothing, dearie," said the hoarse voice of the crone. "You'll be all right soon. You're just going to stay with me a little while—you and your friend. You won't suffer a bit of harm, if you tell us what we want to know. You'll be well taken care of."
Betty began to see a light now. She wished the gag might be taken from her lips, and water given her, but the old woman was busy with Amy. The girl closed her eyes again, and seemed too weak to cry out, even though the rag was not again bound across her lips.
There sounded voices outside the cabin, and a knock on the door.
"Drat 'em," muttered the old woman. "A body would need four hands to attend to all that's to be done."
She laid Amy back on the floor, and hobbled across the room to unbar the door. Betty was frantically struggling to loosen the bonds that held her hands behind her back.
"The boat's ready," gruffly said Jake, as he and Pete were admitted to the shack.
"That's good," muttered the old crone. "We can take care of 'em easier when we get 'em out of here. We don't care if they do yell then. Wait until I tie up this one's mouth. She may rouse up enough to make a racket."