Herbert heard the sound of retreating steps, of other growls, of voices near at hand. One was a woman’s. “You’ll bring destruction on yourselves!” she cried. “You’re plottin’ an’ plannin’ your own ruin an’ downfall! The State police won’t stand the carrying off of men, they--” The speech ended abruptly, almost as though a period had been put to it by force. Herbert heard Sheldon’s sharp “Shut up, Jinny!” and another whine from Black Smith about the “mountain people.” Then he sat motionless, hearing the heavy breathing of the watch-dog, though he could not see him. When he stretched out his tired legs, the dog growled menacingly. He had seen either this dog or one like him with Sheldon, a tall, gaunt animal with a bristling collar of fur, and he had no intention of risking an attack. His eyes strained in vain to pierce the darkness, but he could see nothing, not even the light. He surmised that there were tall trees near by; he could hear the leaves stirring gently far above his head. Even the voices had ceased to sound. Had his captors gone to bed, or had they shut themselves in somewhere to discuss his fate? Sometimes waves of weakness rushed over poor Herbert, but they were not waves of fright. Elizabeth would long ago have found the paper and would have gone for help. He believed that by morning he might expect her. The summary treatment which he had received had wrought a change in him. The high-handedness of his capture enraged him. He lifted his head and said the words that Elizabeth had said weeks before, “They shall not drive us away!” He had no affection for the house of John Baring, and he shared but few of Elizabeth’s fond dreams of clearing his grandfather’s name of its stain, but he would not be coerced in this fashion. He despised the neighborhood which had for so long tolerated these desperadoes. He was mistaken about the flight of time. Twilight had seemed to come early because the woods were thick and because it was cloudy, and the journey had seemed hours long because of his weariness. It was not yet eleven o’clock when Sheldon and Black Smith returned with the two other men. Did these, together with the man left at the house, represent the total able-bodied forces? They carried with them old lanterns, made of tin and pierced with holes, and they sat down in a semi-circle before the door of the cabin or dog-kennel whichever it might be. Sheldon, who seemed to lead them in everything, spoke first. “Now, boy, we want that paper, an’ we believe there is one way to get it. You write an’ tell your sis to send it up here. Then you can go, prompt.” Black Smith was, it seemed, like many orators, not to be permanently suppressed. “People have got to be learned that there’s no foolin’ with the mountain people,” said he. “I don’t know anything about any paper,” insisted Herbert. “My sister didn’t tell me anything about a paper.”