WHY IT WAS DONE.
The yellow reflection of the candle lit up a group of wondering faces
that were turned upon the mother, who stood in the middle of the room.
Her countenance was pale, for she had passed through a great deal
during the last half-hour, to say nothing of that which preceded it.
Before any one could frame the questions in his mind, she explains:
"I am not sure I have done right, but Jennie's departure was with
my consent. She and I talked it over and discussed it in all its
bearings, so far as we could see them, and she finally persuaded me
that it was the right thing for her to do."
She paused, as if expecting some comment, but even Fred was silent;
and still standing, with the candle held aloft, he kept his wondering
gaze upon his parent.
"In the first place, Jennie convinced me that Monteith would only go
to his own death by venturing out; at any rate, it would so result if
he did not receive the signal from Mr. Vesey."
As she paused the amazed Sterry asked:
"But why did she think I would venture unless I got the sign from
Vesey?"
"Because you told her so. You were so confident, when she expressed
her misgivings, that you said you would wait a few minutes after 10
o'clock and then try it, even if no signal appeared."
"You are correct; I _did_ tell her that."
"I consented to her plan on condition that if Mr. Vesey signalled you
should go and she should stay; if he did not do so, she was to venture
alone."
"Why didn't she consult with me?" asked Sterry; "I could have given
her some suggestions."
"Ah, what a question, Mont!" said Fred Whitney, with a smile, as he
comprehended the plan; "we know what suggestions you would have given
her."
"True enough; she never would have made the attempt," he responded.
"And," said Mrs. Whitney, "your friend has not called to you."
"Which reminds me," exclaimed Sterry, stepping to the rear window and
peering out. But everything in the direction of the stables was as
dark and silent as the tomb.
"So you see that if you had followed the directions of Mr. Vesey,"
continued Mrs. Whitney, "no messenger would have left this place for
the camp of the stockmen."
"I recall how closely she questioned me as to my idea of the course to
take to reach the spot. I wanted to gain her confidence and told
her everything, never suspecting that she entertained any such wild
scheme."
"For which you cannot be blamed," remarked her brother; "but I don't
understand how she expected to slip off unobserved."
"Nor do I," added Sterry, with a meaning glance at Capt. Asbury.
"I assure you I am innocent of complicity in the matter, for I would
have opposed as strongly as any of you."
"It was that single difficulty which puzzled her," said the mother,
"but Providence opened the way. While she stood trembling, with her
cloak wrapped about her, Capt. Asbury called Monteith. I whispered to
her 'Now!' and drew back the door. She stepped through, and was gone
before any one, excepting myself, suspected anything."
"But what reason can she have for believing Vesey will favour her
plan?" asked Sterry, feeling an admiration for the daring young woman.
"He will be as much amazed as any one."
"The rustlers have notified us to leave the building, but have not
said that they have a preference of one door over the other. If she
finds herself confronted by strangers, she can easily explain who
she is and say that her mother will soon join her. Can there be
any objection to such a course, or is she likely to suffer on that
account?"
Who could reply unfavourably to this question? The rustlers would
simply conduct her to a place of safety, there to await the coming of
her parent. Failure could bring no embarrassment to Jennie Whitney.
"The great difficulty, after all," remarked Capt. Asbury, "as it
occurs to me, is that if your estimable daughter presents herself
before Mr. Duke Vesey, he will refuse his help. What reason can she
give that will induce him to aid her to pass beyond the camp?"
"I can think of none, but Jennie is hopeful that if she can see him
alone he will permit her to do as she wishes."
"Does she contemplate walking the half-dozen miles or so to the camp
of the cattlemen?" asked Sterry, in dismay.
"O, no; she expects to ride Mr. Sterry's mare."
"But--but--" stammered Monteith.
"She thought of all that," smiled the mother; "she took her saddle
with her."
"Well, I'll be hanged if this isn't a little ahead of anything of
which I ever heard or read!" was the only comment Monteith Sterry
could make, as the full scheme unrolled before him.
"Jennie may fail," continued the proud parent, "but if she does, her
situation and that of all of us will be no worse than before. If she
fails, then you, too, Mr. Sterry, would have failed and lost your life
without helping us."
"I am not prepared to admit that, but my part in the business seems to
have passed beyond discussion."
Mrs. Whitney was about to continue her words when she ceased and
faintly asked for a glass of water. Fred set down the candle and
sprang to her help ahead of anyone, holding the glass, which was
instantly brought, to her lips.
The poor woman had undergone great trials, as will be admitted,
during the past few days. The excitement had sustained her until now
something in the nature of a reaction came. Helping her to a chair,
Fred affectionately fanned her, and did what he could to make her
rally.
He was thus engaged when a second knock startled all. Capt. Asbury
wheeled and demanded:
"Who's there?"
"Duke Vesey, under a flag of truce."
No name could have astonished the cattlemen more. This was the man
whom Sterry had expected to meet, and in whose care it was supposed
Jennie Whitney had placed herself.
Instead of that, he was asking admittance.
"Your flag will be respected," said Capt. Asbury, drawing back the
bolts of the door, which was next swung inward a few inches.
The rustler stepped within, saying:
"I have been sent by Capt. Inman to inquire the meaning of the absence
of Fred Whitney, who was sent here a considerable time ago."
"_That_ is the cause of the delay," replied the captain, pointing to
where the young rancher was doing his utmost to revive his mother.
The captain thought himself justified in turning the incident to
account.
"She may not live more than half an hour. I suppose, under the
circumstances, you folks won't vote to hang her son on his return,
though it would be in keeping with your style of business."
"No; we leave that work to such as shoot down men before their homes,
as was done last night. I didn't expect anything like this," he added
more gently; "I will go back and report. I was told to bring the
ladies, and as I can't take the elder just now, I suppose it's best to
leave both till I learn what Capt. Inman wishes."
Monteith Sterry caught a significant glance of Vesey, while speaking,
but was utterly unable to interpret it. He, however, removed to that
side of the room, so as to place himself near him. Still the rustler
made no other sign. Too many eyes were upon him.
One of Capt. Asbury's most noticeable points was his ability to "catch
on" to a situation like the present. He saw the look given by the
visitor, and translated it as meaning that he wished to make some
communication to the other.
"Sterry," said the captain in his most rasping manner, "this is
the fellow you were so tender on last night, and I suppose he will
reciprocate when he gets a chance to draw a bead on you. I will leave
to you the happiness of escorting him through the door, for the
pleasure would quite overwhelm me."
"I am willing to act the gentleman at any time," replied Sterry,
quickly seizing the opportunity of bringing himself near enough to
hear what Vesey said without any one else noting it. As he was passing
out the rustler remarked, in a quick undertone:
"I did my best, old fellow, but it won't work; they suspect something,
and wouldn't let me go near the stable after dark. Sorry, but it's no
use."
"But I thank you all the same," guardedly responded Sterry.