"He?"
The work lay in Betty's lap, and her fingers had become idle.
"Yes. But we captured one of the strikers."
The parson suddenly turned to the door and barred it securely. Then, as he went on, he crossed to the windows, and began to barricade them.
"Yes, we had a busy time. They were hard on his heels when he pulled up for me. We nailed the foremost. He jumped on the buckboard and almost strangled Mason. I jumped on it too, and—and almost strangled him."
He laughed harshly. His blood was still up. Betty bent over her work and her expressive face was hidden.
"Who was he? I mean your prisoner. Did you recognize him, or was he a new hand?"
Chepstow's laugh abruptly died out. He had suddenly remembered who his prisoner was; and he tried to ignore the question.
"Oh, yes, we recognized him. But," he went on hurriedly, "we must get some supper. I think we are in for a busy time."
But Betty was not so easily put off. Besides, her curiosity was roused by her uncle's evident desire to avoid the subject.