"However," he said, reassuring himself, "there is nothing to be afraid of. Country people are not robbers. Burglars stay in the cities. I have nothing to fear." Still he prudently resolved, if compelled to be out late again, to leave his money at home. He rose from table, followed by the stranger. "Well," said the latter, "I must be going. How soon do you start?" "In a few minutes." "Well, good night." "Good night." "He seems inclined to be social," thought Harry, "but I don't fancy him much." CHAPTER XXXI. Harry was soon on his way home. It was already getting dark, and he felt a little anxious lest he should lose his way. He was rather sorry that he had not started earlier, though he had lost no time. He had gone about two miles, when he came to a place where two roads met. There was no guideboard, and he could not remember by which road he had come. Luckily, as he thought, he described a man a little ahead. He stopped the horse, and hailed him. "Can you tell me which road to take to Pentland?" he asked. The man addressed turned his head, and, to his surprise, our hero recognized his table companion at the inn. "Oh, it's you, my young friend!" he said. "Yes, sir. Can you tell me the right road to Pentland? I have never been this way before to-day, and I have forgotten how I came." "I am thinking of going to Pentland myself," said the other. "My sister lives there. If you don't mind giving me a lift, I will jump in with you, and guide you." Now, though Harry did not fancy the man's appearance, he had no reason to doubt him, nor any ground for refusing his request. "Jump in, sir," he said. "There is plenty of room." The stranger was speedily seated at his side. "Take the left-hand road," he said. Harry turned to his left. "It's rather a blind road," observed the stranger. "I think I could remember in the daytime," said Harry; "but it is so dark now, that I am in doubt." "So I suppose." The road on which they had entered was very lonely. Scarcely a house was passed, and the neighborhood seemed quite uninhabited. "I don't remember this road," said Harry, anxiously. "Are you sure we are right?" "Yes, yes, we are right. Don't trouble yourself." "It's a lonely road." "So it is. I don't suppose there's anybody lives within half a mile." "The road didn't seem so lonely when I came over it this afternoon." "Oh, that's the effect of sunshine. Nothing seems lonely in the daytime. Turn down that lane." "What for?" asked Harry, in surprise. "That can't be the road to Pentland." "Never mind that. Turn, I tell you." His companion spoke fiercely, and Harry's mind began to conceive alarming suspicions as to his character. But he was brave, and not easily daunted. "The horse and carriage are mine, or, at least, are under my direction," he said, firmly, "and you have no control over them. I shall not turn." "Won't you?" retorted the stranger, with an oath, and drew from his pocket a pistol. "Won't you?"