"Let's walk then. The shower is nearly over. It's only five miles."
"Good!" said Don. "But no—Yankee can carry you, and I'll trot alongside on foot;" and he hastened out to have the side-saddle put on Yankee.
To Dorry's amazement, Donald came back in a few minutes, looking flushed and excited. "I've taken a room for you, Dot; come up stairs—quick."
"But I don't want a room. I—"
"Yes, you do; you'll need to rest. Come right up," he insisted in a low voice, hastily locking the parlor door behind him, and almost pulling her toward the stairs. "I'll tell you up there; come quick."
They ran up together. "What's the matter?" she asked on the way. "What have you heard?"
"Oh, nothing at all," he said, as he stepped into a room shabby with ragged matting and worn-out furniture; then, closing the door, he added: "Dorry, you must go away from this place at once. Don't ask any questions! Oh, it's nothing much, Dot," as he noticed her alarm; "but this is a rough sort of place, you see, and of course I can't go away and leave Dood here with these fellows. The sooner you get off, the better. I'll bring Yankee round to the back door at the end of the hall, so as not to attract attention. Lock your door while I'm gone, and when I come back, hurry down with me, jump on Yankee, and be off without a word."
"Well, I never!" she exclaimed, half inclined to laugh, but he was gone.
She turned the key in the lock and ran to the window, pulling its green-paper shade aside. Nothing to be seen but tumble-down out-buildings, a dog-kennel, trampled grass, an empty clothes-line, and a barrel or two.
"Well, I never!" she exclaimed again. "Oh, there comes the pony."