Then they set out through the woods, Miller in their midst. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Santon,” the teacher called back over his shoulder. “They won’t dare do me serious injury.”
“Oh, won’t we, hey?” growled Sprowl. “Wai, mebby ye’ll change yer mind afore we git through with ye.”
“Oh, father, I’m afraid they’ll kill him!” half-moaned Lizzie, when the group had disappeared amid the trees.
“I don’t hardly think they will dare do that, Lizzie,” was the sober reply. “But I fear they will give him rough treatment.”
“Can’t we prevent it somehow, father?” There was great eagerness in the voice of the girl. It was evident that she was deeply moved. The fact was, that she thought a great deal of Herbert Miller. And he, on his part, thought a great deal of Lizzie Santon.
Mr. Santon shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t, Lizzie,” he said. “There are seven of them.”
“But, we can take our rifles, and follow them, father, and if they go to injure Mr. Miller, we can shoot some of them. I can shoot as good as any man, you know, father.”
Mr. Santon hesitated a few moments, and then said: “Very well, Lizzie. We’ll follow them, and perhaps we may be able to drive them away, if they try to injure Mr. Miller. Let’s hurry, or they’ll get so far away we won’t be able to follow them.”
He seized his rifle, and the girl did the same. With a few words to Mrs. Santon, they left the house, and set out through the timber. But they had gone only about fifty yards, when a rough voice challenged them.
“Stop whar ye are!” called the voice, threateningly. “Ef ye come any furder, we’ll plug ye. Hank said as how mebby ye’d try to foller us, an’ made us stay behin’ to watch fur ye. Now, ef ye value yer lives, ye’ll turn aroun’ an’ go right back ter the house, an’ stay thar. Ye hear?”