"It's your best chance for winnin' the gal," said the horseman, with a meaning laugh. "You keep an eye on his movements, and I'll attend to winning the girl," answered the other with a touch of resentment manifest in his tone. "Did you meet anybody between here and town?" "No. Was you expectin' to overtake some one?" questioned the horseman. "Well, nobody in particular," answered the Squire, evasively. "I was just thinking that there wasn't much travel over the road this morning." "Not as much as there will be when there's no toll to pay," said the other, with a meaning laugh, as he rode away. The girl, crouching amid the tall weeds, waited until the rattling vehicle was well over the intervening hill before she ventured from her hiding place. When she gained the road once more her face wore a grave and thoughtful look. It was evident that mischief was brewing in this quarter for somebody. Who was it the Squire was so eager to get into the clutches of the law, and what band was this person about to join? It seemed to be some secret and illegal organization. No names had been called, yet a sudden subtle intuition warned Sally that she was, in point of fact, one of the interested parties to the conversation just overheard, and that the other person who had gained the Squire's avowed enmity, and for whose speedy undoing he was even now planning, was none other than his own nephew and her sweetheart--Milton Derr. CHAPTER III. When the pretty toll-taker reached town she disposed of her basket of eggs at even a higher price than Foster Crain, the poultry vendor, had quoted--she was a famous hand at bargaining and a shrewd trader--then set about making some purchases. She saw the Squire's horse and buggy standing at a hitching post near the courthouse, and determined that she would wait until the vehicle had disappeared before she started back home. Therefore she dallied over her shopping in a truly feminine way, and dropped in to have a friendly chat with an acquaintance or two; then, noting the horse and buggy had gone, she finally started homeward. The day was now hastening toward noon, the sun had grown oppressive, and, with several bundles to carry, Sally felt that the return would not be so pleasant as the coming had been. She looked about her, hoping to find some one--that is, some one besides the Squire--who might be going in the direction of the new pike gate, and with a seat to offer, but no one seemed to be in town from her neighborhood on this morning, and so she set out alone. Just as Sally reached the edge of the town, where two streets intersected, who should drive up the other street but the Squire? The meeting was wholly an accidental one, but after her persistent efforts to avoid him all the morning, the encounter seemed like the especial workings of a perverse fate. The Squire was close upon her before she even saw him. There was no chance for escape or subterfuge.