Country life -- Fiction; New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"No. If I stir she’ll wake. You don’t think it’s him?"
"It may be. Joe Harding’s place is down the valley road. He has a car.
Buller mayn’t suspect we’re helping the girl, but when he didn’t find
her in that direction, Harding may have offered to take a hand in the
game."
"Would any man o’ conscience help a fella like Buller, who all the
neighborhood knows the life he’s led this poor creature—him an’ the
mother, which she’s a disgrace to the name."
"No, but Harding ain’t a man of conscience,—not so you’d notice it, as
you say. If Buller’s out on the still-hunt, Harding’d join in for the
pleasure of the chase."
"Put on power," directed Martha.
Again that swift, silent progress through the night.
Once Sam whispered: "I guess we were stung. I can’t hear anything back
of us any more, can you?"
"No," said Martha. "But stung or no stung, keep a-goin’. We ain’t
takin’ no risks."
Ellen Hinckley slept fitfully, but even in her waking moments she was
not aware of the dangers the others had feared.
"Let her rest," Martha meditated. "After she’s made a clean getaway,
she’ll have all that’s comin’ to her, in the line o’ excitement an’
strain. I don’t believe’m when he says she ain’t all there in the upper
story. But that’s not meanin’ I think she’s furnished as handsome as
some. She may have all her buttons, an’ yet not be the brainiest party
I ever come in contract with. Why didn’t she up an’ open her mind an’
give Buller a piece o’ it long ago? There’s many things a married
woman’s got to shoulder, God knows, but chas*tise*ment, hot off’n his
griddle, as you might say, not on your life, even a married woman
needn’t stand, much less a unmarried maiden-girl. It ain’t decent. If
a man oncet took the strap to me, I’d fix’m so’s the doctor’d have to
hunt for the buckle o’ his belt behind his internal workin’s, in back
among his spine. An’ I’d be proud o’ the job."
When they were within about five miles of Burbank Sam gave a low
whistle.
"I was wonderin’ if you heard it too," Martha responded promptly.
"Firstoff I thought ’twas my imagination, but it ain’t. Somethin’
certaintly’s follain’ along in our tracks."
"The first was a false alarm. So may this be," said Sam.
"Sure. But, could you speed up some? Just for luck?"
Presently Martha heard another sound.
"Now, Ellen," she announced firmly, "you got to brace up. Cryin’ won’t
do you a mite o’ good."
"He’s following. I know it. He’s got a car. He’ll get me and take me
back and—_kill_ me!"
"He will if you don’t do as I say. But not on your life he won’t, if
you mind your aunt Martha. Firstoff, have you got your money safe an’
handy?"
"Yes. Here."
"That’s right. See you don’t lose it, when I assist you onto the train.
There mayn’t be much time to spare, but if the brakeman’s any good on
the catch, I’m up to handin’m a neat throw, an’ between us you’ll get
there!"
"But my ticket——"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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