CHAPTER XXIII
"FOREIGN TRADE" BECOMES BRISK
The cab horses were browsing quietly by the roadside.
Miss Daisy looked anything but perturbed.
In fact, she had passed all uneasiness of spirit on to the cab driver. That worthy had come back to his senses, but Miss Huston had compelled him to sit on the ground, his back to a tree. She stood a few yards away, watching the surly fellow and holding the pistol as though it were not the first time she had had such a weapon in her hand.
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Mr. Benson!" cried the girl, with true feminine relief. "I was so worried about you. But you're not hurt—badly. I hurried a horseman on to you. He reached you?"
"Yes, thank you," nodded Lieutenant Benson. "And now, Miss Huston, I must inform you that we have Millard—your Donald Graves—a prisoner and manacled. I must first find a way of getting you back into town. Then I must turn Millard over to the authorities."
"Why can't he go back in the same cab with me?" asked Miss Huston, quickly.
"You—could you endure that?"
"Yes," replied the girl, bravely. "I took you to him. I sent the assistance that enabled you to take him prisoner. Do not fear for me, Mr. Benson."