Steve declared haughtily that he did not wish to discuss that question further, and that he would have his horse fed and go to his office to make out a few notices and be ready to start off again in an hour.
“The roads are all picketed, and if they get him to the city it will be by a route they won’t want to take themselves,” he said grimly, as he turned away.
“Suppose he’s already in jail somewhere?” asked his friend.
“We’ll take him out,” said Steve, stopping short. “There isn’t a jail in this commonwealth that will hold him, if I discover where he is.”
“All right, we’ll be with you, old fellow,” said his friend, his good-humor restored; “and if we could get a pull at some of your carpet-bag friends at the same time so much the better. You are not the only one who holds a due-bill of McRaffle’s, and has a score against Leech. He arrested my father and kept him in jail a week.” His voice had suddenly grown bitter.
When they moved off, Ruth rose and crept hurriedly away, stealing along by the fence until she was in the shadow of the offices. She knew she had not a moment to lose. She went up to the offices and scanned the doors. Fortunately, by even the faint glimmer of the stars she could make out the big names on the signs. She tried the door on which was the name of “Allen and Gray,” and, finding it locked, slipped her envelope under it and crept quickly away.
She was just in time, for she heard steps behind her and caught sight of a tall figure striding across the green toward the door she had just left. She found and mounted her horse and rode away, keeping well in the shadow of the trees. As she turned into the road at a sharp canter she almost ran over an old negro who was walking rapidly toward the village. It was so close that she could not avoid calling out to him; but she was not quite in time, for her horse touched him enough to topple him over. Ruth pulled in instantly and, turning around, went back to the man, who was scrambling to his feet grumbling and mumbling to himself:
“Who d’name o’ King dat ridin’ over me?”
Ruth recognized old Waverley.
“Oh! Are you hurt, uncle? I hope not. I’m so sorry. It was so dark I couldn’t see you,” she said, solicitously. The tone removed the old man’s irritation immediately.