For a long time after that there was silence in the room. Only the ceaseless rush of waters on the shore, and the friendly tick-tock of the clock disturbed the stillness of the night.
“They wanted you to sign a paper,” Red suggested after a time.
“The kidnapers? Yes, they did. Wanted me to say I was in great distress. Wanted me to beg my father to give them money, twenty thousand dollars, to save my life.”
“And you wouldn’t.”
“No.” Her big blue eyes shone with a new light. “Why should I? They are outlaws of the worst type. If I had done what they wished I would have been helping them. I have not much strength. I have a little. If they get my father’s money they will be encouraged, will go on with their terrible business. They will take some one far weaker than I, a defenseless baby, perhaps.
“Some time one must die.” Her eyes were large and round. “Why not now, if need be, and for a good cause? If they catch me again and put an end to me, my father will spend his fortune hunting them down. What finer tribute could one have to one’s memory?”
“What indeed?” Red’s eyes shone with true admiration. “But they’ll not get you.”
Berley Todd did not reply. Instead she rose and began walking slowly back and forth in the large room. She was humming, and the words were these: “Oh, bury me not on the lone prairee.”
“Now,” said the boy with a laugh that came perilously near being a sob, “it’s time we were going back.”