She had no time to waste even in a solitude as remote
as this, and was crocheting busily by the firelight. Her
earnestness gave character to her features which sometimes lacked
significance. Reuther loved to glance at her from time to time, as
she continued her conversation with Mr. Black.
This is what she was saying:
"I cannot point to any one man of the many who have been about us
ever since we started north. But that we have been watched and our
route followed, I feel quite convinced. So does Miss Weeks. But,
as you saw, no one besides ourselves left the cars at this
station, and I am beginning to hope that we shall remain
unmolested till we can take the trip to Tempest Lodge. How far is
it, Mr. Black?"
"Twenty-five miles and over a very rough mountain road. Did I not
confidently expect to find Oliver there, I should not let you
undertake this ride. But the inquiries I have just made lead me to
hope for the best results. I was told that yesterday a young man
bound for Tempest Lodge, stopped to buy a large basket of supplies
at the village below us. I could not learn his name and I saw no
one who could describe him; but the fact that any one not born in
these parts should choose to isolate himself so late in the year
as this, in a place considered inaccessible after the snow flies,
has roused much comment."
"That looks as if--as if--"
"As if it were Oliver. So it does; and if you feel that you can
ride so far, I will see that horses are saddled for us at an early
hour to-morrow morning.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273