“Hey thar—kid!” called Anson, hoarsely.
The girl drew her slight form up haughtily. Through her spreading tresses her eyes gleamed unnaturally upon the outlaw leader. But she deigned not to reply.
“Hey thar—you Rayner girl!” added Anson, lamely. “What's ailin' you?”
“My lord! did you address me?” she asked, loftily.
Shady Jones got over his consternation and evidently extracted some humor from the situation, as his dark face began to break its strain.
“Aww!” breathed Anson, heavily.
“Ophelia awaits your command, my lord. I've been gathering flowers,” she said, sweetly, holding up her empty hands as if they contained a bouquet.
Shady Jones exploded in convulsed laughter. But his merriment was not shared. And suddenly it brought disaster upon him. The girl flew at him.
“Why do you croak, you toad? I will have you whipped and put in irons, you scullion!” she cried, passionately.
Shady underwent a remarkable change, and stumbled in his backward retreat. Then she snapped her fingers in Moze's face.