"I am not lying to you. I never lie. My name is Joshua Peniman. I and my family are crossing the plains to Nebraska. The little girl you just saw come out of that store with my wife is my daughter Ruth. This is my son Joe."
The stranger turned and cast a snarling glance at the boy.
"He'd better not interfere in my business again, or his name'll be on a coffin-plate," he growled, and moved away.
Joshua Peniman motioned to the wagons. "In with you, boys," he said in a low voice, "we'll have to get away from here."
When they were in the wagons again and on the road he turned to his wife.
"What does it mean?" he said in a voice so low that the little girls who were in the back of the wagon dressing the china dolls they had bought at the trading-station could not hear him. "What is this mystery that is following us? It is evident that Nina is in danger from some one—for some reason that we know nothing about. I shall be thankful when we can put her into the hands of those who are in a better position to protect her than we are."
"That man back there," breathed Mrs. Peniman, scarcely above a whisper, "that horrible creature—thought—acted—as if he knew her!"
"He did know her—or he thought he did! He had some sort of a shock when his eyes fell upon her. He was not sure, and I think I threw him off the trail."
"It is strange—strange—in this vast new country—what can it mean?" cried Mrs. Peniman, and gazed out over the prairies with brooding eyes.
CHAPTER IX