"Oh, I must go home—I must go home!" she moaned.
"I've got the sheriff's orders to hold you pending an investigation. What harm does it do you to stay here a while?" he asked doggedly.
"Don't you see? When my father hears of it he will be furious. I made Phil promise not to tell him. But he'll hear when he comes back. And then—there will be trouble. He'll drag me from you, or he'll die trying. He's that kind of man."
A pebble rolled down the face of the wall against which she leaned. Weaver looked up quickly—to find himself covered by a carbine.
"Hands up, seh! No—don't reach for a gun."
"So it's you, Mr. Keller! Homesteading up there, I presume?"
"In a way of speaking. You remember I asked you a question."
"And I told you to go to Halifax."
"Well, I came back to answer the question myself. You're going to turn the young lady loose."
"If you say so." Weaver's voice carried an inflection of sarcasm.