“I reckon they air skeered to foller us, gal. They air afeard to tackle th’ ole man, onless they jump in two t’ one; and they cain’t tell who helped me git away.”
He laughed—a curious, chuckling laugh. He had ceased to struggle at his bonds, but seemed resigned to his strange fate. He had not answered Jerry’s question, and had no intention of doing so. The sudden attack at the church had aroused all his cunning. Appleweight, alias Poteet, was an old wolf, and knew well the ways of the trapper; but the bold attempt to kidnap him was a new feature of the game as heretofore played along the border. He did not make it out; nor was he wholly satisfied with the girl’s explanation of her own presence in that out-of-the-way place. She might be a guest at Ardsley, as she pretended, but women-folk were rarely seen on the estate, and never in such remote corners of it as Mount Nebo Church. As he pondered the matter, it seemed incredible that this remarkable young person, whose innocence was so beguiling, should be in any way leagued with his foes.
He had several times called out directions as they crossed other paths in the forest, and they now reached the main trunk road of the estate. The red bungalow, Jerry knew, was not far away. Her prisoner spoke again.
“Little gal, I’m an ole man, and I hain’t never done y’u no harm. Your haouse is only a leetle way up thar, and I cain’t be no more use to y’u. I want t’ go home, and if y’u’ll holp me ontie this yere harness——” and he grinned as he viewed his bonds in the fuller light of the open road.
Then hoof-beats thumped the soft earth of another of the trails that converged at this point, and Ardmore and Collins flashed out upon Jerry and her captive, amid a wild panic of horses.
Appleweight twisted and turned in his saddle, but Jerry instantly held up her hand and arrested the inquiries of her deliverers.
“Mr. Ardmore, this gentleman was most rudely set upon by two strangers as he was leaving a church over there somewhere in the woods. I was lost, and as his appearance at the time and place seemed almost providential, I begged him to guide me toward home, which he has most courteously done;” and Jerry, to give the proper touch to her explanation, twitched the strap by which she held her prisoner’s horse, so that it danced, adding a fresh absurdity to the wobbling figure of its bound rider.
“You are safe!” cried Ardmore in a low tone, to which Jerry nodded carelessly, in a way that directed attention to the more immediate business at hand. He was not at once sure of his cue, but there seemed to be something familiar in the outlines of the man on horseback, and full identification broke upon him now with astounding vividness.
“Jugs,” he began, addressing the prisoner smilingly, “dear old Jugs, to think we should meet again! Since you handed me that jug on the rear end of the train, a few nights ago, life has had new meanings for me, and I’m just as sorry as can be that I gave you the buttermilk. I wouldn’t have done such a thing for billions in real money. And now that you have fallen into the excellent hands of Miss Dangerfield——”
“Dangerfield!” screamed the prisoner, lifting himself as high in the saddle as his bonds would permit.