“A coil of rope, or some straps, with a piece of cloth; anything you can lay hands on.”
She was some moments at it, confused by the darkness, and Hawley moved slightly, his labored breathing growing plainly perceptible. Keith heard her groping toward him, and held out his hands. She started as he thus unexpectedly touched her, yet made no effort to break away.
“You—you frightened me a little,” she confessed. “This has all happened so quickly I hardly realize yet just what has occurred.”
“The action has only really begun,” he assured her, still retaining his hold upon her hand. “This was merely a preliminary skirmish, and you must prepare to bear your part in what follows. We have settled Mr. Hawley for the present, and now must deal with his gang.”
“Oh, what would I have done if you had not been here?”
“Let us not think about that; we were here, and now have a busy night before us if we get away safely. Give me the rope first. Good! Here, Neb, you must know how to use this,—not too tight, but without leaving any play to the arms; take the knife out of his belt. Now for the cloth, Miss Maclaire.”
“Please do not call me that!”
“But you said it didn't make any difference what I called you.”
“I thought it didn't then, but it does now.”
“Oh, I see; we are already on a new footing. Yet I must call you something.”