"The case stands thus," he persisted. "If my nephew is a lawbreaker, he deserves punishment. As I am president of this road, and a large stockholder, too, and he's doing his utmost to injure and destroy my property, I fail to see why I should show him any sympathy or favor. If I do, it will be solely on your account, not his. It's up to you whether Milt goes free or is punished." "On just what conditions will you let him go free?" asked the girl quickly. "On your promise to marry me." "Oh, no!" she cried sharply, "not that!" "Just that," insisted the Squire. "And if I don't promise?" she asked in a low tone. "It puts him in a place where you can't marry _him_," answered her companion promptly. They drove on in silence until the edge of the town was reached. "Here we are in town," the Squire said. "Shall I drive you to the sheriff's office with me?" "Why are you going there?" asked his companion faintly. "To give up this hat and swear out a warrant for its owner." "Don't go!" pleaded Sally. "It all rests with you as to whether I go or not," replied the Squire, his bold, unpitying eyes bent full upon her. "Milt can either be a free man or a felon--which shall it be?" His eyes were fixed on hers in a concentrated gaze that seemed to fascinate her like the gaze of the wily serpent charms the ensnared bird. There was a confused buzzing in her head, a thousand small voices crying out, "Save Milt! Save Milt!" Her very power of will appeared to be ebbing away. She saw only those hard, unyielding eyes, she heard only those inner voices crying out in her lover's behalf. "I'll promise!" she faltered. "When?" asked the Squire. "I don't know, some of these days," she cried desperately, quite at her wits' end. "That's too indefinite," insisted her companion. "S'pose you marry me a week from to-day?" "Oh! no! no! not that soon! Give me a little more time," she pleaded. Something would surely come to her aid, if she gained time, she knew not what. A wild thought came into her head that perhaps she might yet run away with her lover. At all events, a delay would give him time to get away, whether she went or not. "Two weeks, then," said the Squire slowly, "no longer." "Well," she said faintly. "Then you'll agree to marry me?" "Yes," she answered recklessly. "Two weeks from to-day?" he insisted. "Yes," she answered again, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. "All right! A bargain's a bargain!" cried the Squire gleefully. "I'll drive to the sheriff's and tell him I lost the hat coming to town." "Give it to me!" asked the girl eagerly. "Oh, no, my dear, not yet!" he answered, with a grimace, thrusting the bundle into an inner pocket of his great-coat. "I'll just keep it next to my heart as a reminder of your promise. I'll give it to you the morning of our wedding--as a token of love and affection," added he with a chuckle of satisfaction. CHAPTER XVIII.