"Hush! Leave her where she is. Don't seem afraid. It's our only chance. Let them make the first move." Again the hand pressure so tight that, although she made no sound, the blood left the woman's fingers. "Tell me you forgive me, Margaret; before anything happens. I'm a criminal to have stayed here,—I see it now, a criminal!"
"Don't!"
"But I must. Tell me you forgive me. Tell me."
"I love you, Sam."
Again in the expanse of grass to the east there was motion; not in a single spot but in a dozen places. No living being was visible, not a sound broke the stillness of evening; simply here and there it stirred, and became motionless, and stirred again.
"And—Margaret. If worst comes to worst they mustn't take either of us alive. The last one—I can't say it. You understand."
"Yes, I understand. The last load—But maybe—"
"It's useless to deceive ourselves. They wouldn't come this way if—Margaret, in God's name—"
"But baby, Sam!" Of a sudden she was struggling fiercely beneath the grip that kept her back. "I must have her, must see her again; must, must—"
"Margaret!"