The girl had been dreading just such news as her mother had revealed,
yet since the conversation with the Squire the day Sally had so
unwillingly ridden with him from town, she had been hourly expecting it.
Now that the ill news had really come, her present uneasiness was not
altogether on her mother's account, nor her own. It was probable that
her sweetheart was now affiliated with the band of raiders, yet if this
was true, it seemed a little strange that the New Pike gate was the one
to be attacked.
When Sally sat down to her sewing a little later, after her various
household duties had been attended to for the evening, her thoughts were
very far removed from her present work, and she was much more troubled
and perplexed in spirit and mind than she cared to show.
At the time she had heard the talk between the Squire and his unknown
informant, it was evident that Milton Derr had not then joined the
raiders, but from the trend of that conversation it seemed likely he
would soon become a member of the band. He was evidently debating the
feasibility of joining them. Had he done so, and was he now powerless to
change or divert their plans?
It was not alone the news that the gate would be attacked which was
troubling the girl, but the further information her mother had given
that the plans of the raiders were known, and the Squire was even then
in town organizing a posse to resist the attack and capture the band.
Supposing her sweetheart was now a member of it, and some subtle
intuition was urging her to such belief, what would be the outcome of it
all? This then was the trap the Squire was adroitly laying for his
nephew. She had warned Milt of the danger, but had he heeded? The band
was probably composed of men he knew well, and was doubtless gathered
from the ready material to be found among the rugged hills wherein he
dwelt.
There had ever seemed to exist among these people a certain wild spirit
of adventure and reckless daring, which one naturally imbibed along
with the very air of these free remote hills, and the Squire's nephew
was of that restive nature too easily attracted by anything savoring of
excitement or danger, such as these lawless escapades might readily
furnish.
On recalling a talk she had held with her sweetheart the Sunday evening
before, when they rode together from Alder Creek meeting-house, she felt
that her very own words may have had some weight in influencing him to
cast his fortunes with the raiders. Though she warned him of such a
course, yet in almost the same breath she told him of the Squire's
prediction that the New Pike gate would be wrecked, leaving her mother
and herself homeless, but she wisely said nothing about the Squire's
offer of marriage, deeming it prudent to remain silent on this point for
the present, at least.
She had appealed to the nephew to do what he could to prevent the
destruction of the New Pike gate, and had meant to enlist his aid only
so far as the exercising of his influence over any personal friends who
might belong to the band of raiders.
As things now stood, a great danger lay in the fact that the posse of
men now being gathered together in town, would probably make speedy war
on those who threatened destruction to the gate. There would doubtless
be fighting, some might be killed, wounded or taken prisoners, and her
sweetheart was as liable to be among the first as the latter, if he were
a raider. What great relief it would be at this moment to know that he
was not connected with those who had lately declared warfare on the
toll-gates throughout the country!
If she could but manage to see him, even for a brief moment, a simple
word of warning might avert serious trouble. There was still left her a
faint chance for such warning to be given, for Milton Derr had gone to
town that morning, and she had not seen him return, though it might be
that he had passed the gate on his homeward way, while she was busied
with her household duties.
She felt a growing eagerness to know if her mother had seen him pass,
yet dared not ask. Finally she decided on a little subterfuge.
"Dear me!" she cried, suddenly pausing in her work and glancing at her
mother inquiringly, "I forgot to send Phrony that skirt pattern she
asked me to hunt for her. Has every one passed living up that way?"
"I s'pose they have," answered Mrs. Brown grumpily. "It's gettin' late,
an' if the country folks ain't at home by now, they oughter be."
The girl made a show of hunting up the pattern, then sat down with it
and her sewing near the front door.
Several belated travelers passed, some rather the worse for having
imbibed too freely of the cup that cheers, but the one she wished to see
was not among them. Along toward nine o'clock a small party of horsemen
came galloping along the pike, loudly hallooing and firing their pistols
as they came, and for a moment the girl thought the raiders were surely
at hand.
Then quickly realizing that the cavalcade was coming not from the
direction of the hill country, but the town, and that the night was yet
too young for raiders to be abroad, she understood that it was merely a
drunken crowd on their homeward way, therefore she hurried out and
raised the pole, then fled into the house and blew out the light, as the
horsemen went dashing by, in a volley of shouts and oaths, like a
miniature whirlwind.
Just as the clock was striking nine, and when her mother had once more
fallen asleep after her recent rude awakening, the girl's attentive ear
caught the sound of a horse's familiar tread, and tiptoeing lightly out
on the platform, she softly closed the door behind her and awaited the
rider.
She was not at fault in her surmise, for the horseman was the one she
had hoped to see, and at her low summons he rode close up to the
platform where she stood, all impatient to divulge her message.
"I thought you'd never come, or else that you had already passed the
gate without me seeing you!" cried Sally in an eager undertone when he
drew rein.
"I would certainly have started earlier if I'd known you were waiting,"
answered the rider contritely.
"Did you know we are expecting the raiders to pay us a visit tonight?"
she asked hurriedly, coming at once to the point.
"Pay this gate a visit?" queried Milt in genuine surprise that proved
her words news to him.
"Yes."
"Are you quite sure about that?" he asked thoughtfully, "How do you know
it's to be this gate?"
"The Squire came by on his way to town only a little while ago, and told
mother. He's gone now to raise a posse of men to guard the gate."
"Here's trickery," thought Milt. "I was led to believe it was to be some
other gate for tonight's raid, or else I've got things badly mixed. The
Squire said it was this gate?" he added aloud.
"That's what he told mother. I didn't see him. You mustn't ever tell
that I told you, never!" she insisted.
"I never will," he declared fervently. "And how did the Squire know
about it?" he added thoughtfully.
"I don't know, likely from the man who is acting the spy for him."
"I wonder who that man can be?"
"I don't know, but the Squire's got somebody in his pay who is not only
spying on the raiders but on you also. He's acting a double part."
"And you say the gate is to be guarded tonight?"
"Yes, the guards will be here soon."
"Well, perhaps that may scare the raiders away," said the young man
reassuringly. "I'm awful glad you told me about it."
"I thought you ought to know," said Sally in a low tone, "for perhaps
you have friends that might be interested in such news."
"This gate shall never be molested as long as I can do anything to
prevent it," said Milton Derr earnestly, bending sideways until his arm
encircled the waist of the pretty toll-taker on the platform; "and if it
ever is, you can understand that I am powerless to save it. Good night,
sweetheart!"