“Get out, I tell you—”
Pete shuffled from the room, mumbling as he went: “Dah now, dah now! driv’ out lak a dog! How’s I gwine to fin’ out anyt’ing dis away? It do ’pear lak Mas’ Ha’ison do try to gi’e me all de trouble he know how. Now he plannin’ an’ projickin’ wif dat cousin Dale, an’ one jes’ ez scattah-brained ez de othah. Well, I ’low I got to beat dey time somehow er ruther.”
He was still lingering hopeless and worried about the house when he saw young Dale Randolph come out, mount his horse and ride away. After a while his young master also came out and walked up and down in the soft evening air. The rest of the family were seated about on the broad piazza.
“I wonder what is the matter with Harrison to-night,” said the young man’s father, “he seems so preoccupied.”
“Thinking of Sallie Ford, I reckon,” some one replied; and the remark passed with a laugh. Pete was near enough to catch this, but he did not stop to set them right in their conjectures. He slipped into the house as noiselessly as possible.
It was less than two hours after this when Dale Randolph returned and went immediately to his cousin’s room, where Harrison followed him.
“Well?” said the latter, as soon as the door closed behind them.
“It’s all arranged, and he’s anxious to hurry it through for fear some one may interfere. Pistols, and to-morrow morning at daybreak.”