“For holding up a train.”
She had answered in spite of herself, by reason of something compelling in him that drew the truth from her.
“How long has he been in the penitentiary?”
“Seven years.” Then, miserably, she added: “He was weak and fell into bad company. They led him into it.”
“When did he escape?”
“Two days ago. Last night he knocked at my window—at the window of the room where I lodge in Fort Lincoln. I had not heard of his escape, but I took him in. There were horses in the barn. One of them was mine. I saddled, and after I had dressed his wound we started. He couldn't get any farther than this.”
“Do you live in Fort Lincoln?”
“I came there to teach school. My home was in Wisconsin before.”
“You came out here to be near him?”
“Yes. That is, near as I could get a school. I was to have got in the Tucson schools next year. That's much nearer.”