“I understand that, Nelson.” And Pole, with a softened face, held out his big, warm hand. “Shake, old boy. Let it all pass. Now that you understand me, I'm goin' to trust you like a friend. No good man will harm the sister of a friend, noway, an' that's what she is to me. She's my little sister, Nelson. Now, you go take 'er home. I don't like the looks o' that cloud in the west,' an' I don't like the way that hoss o' your'n keeps layin' back his ears an' snortin' at ever' leaf that blows by.” XVI FLOYD drove on to the bush-arbor and helped Cynthia into the buggy. “Was that Pole Baker talking to you?” she questioned. “Yes, he wanted to speak to me,” said Floyd, seriously. “He unhitched my horse and turned him around.” “I suppose he is making resolutions to reform?” Floyd shrugged his shoulders unconsciously. “Yes, he's always doing that sort of thing. He's afraid there may be a storm, too. He's the best weather prophet I know. If the cloud were behind us I shouldn't be concerned at all, for Jack could outrun it.” They were driving into a lonely, shaded part of the road, and there they noticed more plainly the darkness that had rapidly fallen over the landscape. Cynthia shivered, and Floyd tried to see the expression of her face, but she was looking down and he was unable to do so. “Are you really afraid?” he asked. “I was thinking about how narrow the road is,” she made answer, “and of the awful cliffs along beside it. Then Jack seems restless and excited. If the lightning were to begin to flash, or should strike near us, he might--” “Don't worry,” Floyd broke in, calmly. “It is this long, dark road that makes you nervous. We'll get out of it in a few minutes.”