"Pretty risky driving, I should say," said Mrs. Peniman, shading her eyes with her hand.
"Something must be the matter," cried Ruth, who, wakened by the talking, had come to the rear of the wagon. "I don't believe anybody'd drive like that if they didn't have to! Oh, Mother, do you suppose the Indians are after them?"
"I think not, Ruthie, there does not appear to be any sign of any one after them. What does thee make of it, Joshua?"
"I don't know what to make of it," replied Joshua Peniman, leaping out of the wagon and keeping his gaze fixed on the approaching vehicle. "I never saw such driving. What can they be thinking of to drive their horses like that on such a day! The man must be drunk—or crazy! He'll kill his team!"
The white-topped prairie schooner was now clearly visible, the horses galloping madly, the wagon swaying and lurching from side to side, the white curtain at the back streaming out on the wind.
"Something must be wrong there," cried Joe; "nobody in his senses would drive like that! Do you suppose the team could be running away? No, they're leaving the road! Look, they're turning in here! They must have seen us! I wonder——"
With strained gaze the travelers stood motionless, every faculty absorbed in watching the oncoming vehicle.
Suddenly Mrs. Peniman uttered a startled cry:
"Why, that isn't a man driving—it's a woman!"
Joshua Peniman, with hands bowed across his eyes, exclaimed breathlessly, "My God, so it is!"