Still with the thought of the Company men in her mind, the girl saw only
their usual courtesy. "Thank you," she said, "I can handle him very
nicely."
But the man--whom she had not had time to see, blinded as she had been by
the light, and who was now only dimly visible in the darkness--stepped
close to the horse's shoulder, as if to make himself more easily heard
above the noise of the machine, his hand still holding the bridle-rein.
"It is Miss Andrés, is it not?" He spoke as though he was known to her;
and the girl--still thinking that it was one of the Company men, and
feeling that he expected her to recognize him--leaned forward to see his
face, as she answered.
Instantly, the stranger--standing close and taking advantage of the girl's
position as she stooped toward him from the saddle--caught her in his
powerful arms and lifted her to the ground. At the same moment, the man's
companion who, under cover of the darkness and the noise of the machine,
had drawn close to the other side of the horse, caught the bridle-rein.
Before the girl, taken so off her guard could cry out, a softly-rolled,
silk handkerchief was thrust between her lips and skillfully tied in
place. She struggled desperately; but, against the powerful arms of her
captor, her splendid, young strength was useless. As he bound her hands,
the man spoke reassuringly; "Don't fight, Miss. I'm not going to hurt you.
I've got to do this; but I'll be as easy as I can. It will do you no good
to wear yourself out."
Frightened as she was, the girl felt that the stranger was as gentle as
the circumstances permitted him to be. He had not, in fact, hurt her at
all; and, in his voice, she caught a tone of genuine regret. He seemed to
be acting wholly against his will; as if driven by some power that
rendered him, in fact, as helpless as his victim.
The other man, still standing by the horse's head, spoke sharply; "All
right there?"
"All right, sir," gruffly answered the man who held Sibyl, and lifting the
helpless girl gently in his arms he seated her carefully in the machine.
An automobile-coat was thrown around her, the high collar turned up to
hide the handkerchief about her lips, and her hat was replaced by an
"auto-cap," pulled low. Then her captor went back to the horse; the other
man took the seat beside her; and the car moved forward.
The girl's fright now gave way to perfect coolness. Realizing the
uselessness of any effort to escape, she wisely saved her strength;
watchful to take quick advantage of any opportunity that might present
itself. Silently, she worked at her bonds, and endeavored to release the
bandage that prevented her from crying out. But the hands that had bound
her had been too skillful. Turning her head, she tried to see her
companion's face. But, in the darkness, with upturned collar and cap
pulled low over "auto-glasses," the identity of the man driving the car
was effectually hidden.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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