Griswold saw nothing but a momentary confusion of shadows, then perfect silence hung over the woods behind the little church. The congregation was slowly dispersing, riding away in little groups. Suddenly a voice called out in the road a hundred yards beyond the church:
“Hey there! Where’s Bill?”
“Oh, he’s gone long ago!” yelled another.
In a moment more the church door slammed and a last figure rode rapidly away.
“Now we’ll see what’s happened,” said Habersham. “It looks almost too easy.”
The members of Griswold’s party who had been thrown round to the farther side of the church began to appear, one at a time. There was no nervousness among any of the band—a fact that impressed Griswold. They were all risking much in this enterprise, but they were outwardly unperturbed, and chewing their tobacco silently while they awaited the return of the two active agents in the conspiracy who had dealt directly with Appleweight. Habersham counted heads, and announced all present or accounted for.
The tall leader who had ridden the mule was the first to rise out of the underbrush, through which he had crawled circuitously from the rear of the church. His companion followed a few seconds later.
“We’ve got Bill, all tied and gagged and a-settin’ of his hoss,” drawled the leader, “and the hoss is tied to the back fence. Rest o’ his boys thought he’d gone ahead, but they may miss him and come back. He’s safe enough, and ef we keep away from him we’ll be ready to light out ef the gang scents trouble and comes back to look fer Bill.”
“You’re sure he’s tied up so he can’t break away or yell?”
“He’s as good as dead, a-settin’ of his hoss in the thicket back theh.”