"Got to the still just in the nick o' time," Tobe said, panting, for he had been running. "The gang started to handle me purty rough at first—thought I was a spy—but your pa stepped in an' made 'em have sense. They couldn't move any of their things on such short notice, but the last one escaped just as the officers was ready for the rush."
"But my father?" Dolly inquired, anxiously.
"He's all right—he said he'd be home before morning. He has no idea that you know about it."
"I'm glad of that. Oh, Tobe, you have been good to me to-night!" Dolly took the humble fellow's hands and shook them affectionately.
"Well, if you hain't been good to me an' mine nobody ever was to a soul on this earth," Barnett half sobbed. "Mr. Mostyn, maybe you don't know what Miss Dolly has—"
"Yes, I do, Barnett," Mostyn declared. "I know."
"Now, go back to Annie and Robby, Tobe," Dolly advised. "Poor girl! She will be uneasy about you."
"No, she won't bother," Barnett answered, firmly. "She'd be willing to have me go to jail to help you, Miss Dolly. She is that grateful she'd cut off her hands to oblige you, an' she will be powerful happy when she knows this went through all right. Good night, Miss Dolly; good night, Mr. Mostyn."
Dolly and her companion turned back toward the house as Barnett trudged off down the road.
"Well, I'm glad it came out all right," Mostyn said, lamely; but Dolly, still listless, made no reply. Silently she walked by his side, her pretty head down. An impulse of the heart impelled him to take her hand. He was drawing her yielding form to him when she looked straight into his eyes.