Faint and trembling, she crept into the old canvas-covered wagon, and as it jogged along down the road stiff with its frozen ruts and ever nearing the mountains, she clasped the cheerful Kittredge with a yearning sense of loss, and declared that the judge had made him no safer than before. It was in vain that her father, speaking from the legal lore of the code, detailed the contempt of court that the Kittredges would commit should they undertake to interfere with the judicial decision--it might be even considered kidnapping. “But what good would that do me--an' the baby whisked plumb out'n the State? Ef Abs'lom ain't 'feared o' Tim's rifle, what's he goin' ter keer fur the pore jedge with nare weepon but his leetle contempt o' court--ter jail Abs'lom, ef he kin make out ter ketch him!” She leaned against the swaying hoop of the cover of the wagon and burst into tears. “Oh, none o' ye 'll do nuthin' fur me!” she exclaimed, in frantic reproach. “Nuthin'!” “Ye talk like 'twar we-uns ez made up sech foolishness ez _habeas corpus_ out'n our own heads,” said Timothy. “I 'ain't never looked ter the law fur pertection. Hyar's the pertecter.” He touched the trigger of his rifle and glanced reassuringly at his sister as he sat beside her on the plank laid as a seat from side to side of the wagon. She calmed herself for a moment; then suddenly looked aghast at the rifle, and with some occult and hideous thought, burst anew into tears. “Waal, sir,” exclaimed Stephen, outdone, “what with all this hyar daily weepin' an' nightly mournin', I 'ain't got spunk enough lef ter stan' up agin the leetlest Kittredge a-goin'. I ain't man enough ter sight a rifle. Kittredges kin kem enny time an' take my hide, horns, an' tallow ef they air minded so ter do.” “I 'lowed I hearn suthin' a-gallopin' down the road,” said Tim, abruptly. Her tears suddenly ceased. She clutched the baby closer, and turned and lifted the flap of the white curtain at the back of the wagon, and looked out with a wild and terror-stricken eye. The red clay road stretched curveless, a long way visible and vacant. The black bare trees stood shivering in the chilly blast on either side; among them was an occasional clump of funereal cedars. Away off the brown wooded hills rose; snow lay in thin crust-like patches here and there, and again the earth wore the pallid gray of the crab-grass or the ochreous red of the gully-washed clay. “I don't see nuthin',” she said, in the bated voice of affrighted suspense.