It was eleven o’clock before Jard left him. Jard had talked of Eclipse blood for two hours without a break, but he had not suggested a way of commencing negotiations with Luke Dangler for the purchase of a horse. Vane extinguished the lamp and replenished the fire upon Jard’s departure. An hour passed, and he was about to venture forth and down the stairs and out of the house in search of Pete when he was startled by a sharp rap on one of his windows. He jumped to his feet and faced the window. On the instant it sounded again, like the impact of a sliver of ice or fragment of snow-crust on the thin glass. He jumped to the window and raised the sash, and was about to stoop and thrust out his head when something hit him smartly on the ribs and dropped to the floor. It was a small white handkerchief weighted and knotted into a ball. He undid the knots in a few seconds, and found inside a small stone and a folded scrap of paper.
Don’t go to Goose Creek to-morrow or ever. Please go away. You are in great danger. I warn you in gratitude. Please destroy this and go away to-morrow morning.
He read it, then stooped again and looked out and down from the window. In the vague starshine he could see nothing of the secretive messenger. He closed the window swiftly but silently, tossed the scrap of paper into the fire, pocketed the stone and little handkerchief, slipped into his outer coat, snatched up cap and mittens and left the room. He had been fully dressed, with his moccasins on and everything ready for a quick exit; and this fact was the very thing that upset the calculations of the thrower of the warning.
Vane made a clean getaway from the window of the kitchen, and overtook the running figure before him just short of the top of the hill. It was Joe Hinch, carrying her snowshoes under an arm. She halted and turned at the touch of his hand, breathing quickly. She glanced at him, then down, without a word.
“I hope I haven’t frightened you,” he said hurriedly. “But I had to know if it was you—or a trick. How did you come? How did you get away? Why are you going back?”
“It is not a trick,” she replied. “You are in danger.”
“Now? Immediate danger?”
“To-morrow—and after. If you go, or if you don’t.”
“Who came with you? And why did you come?”
“Nobody. I slipped out easily, and took a long way through the woods. And now I must hurry back. And you will promise to go away to-morrow. Please promise me that.”