Sam and Bill fairly snarled.
"Suppose they should get loose?" Her eyes grew wide with the thought of
it.
"They can't," he said laconically. "I wish the marshal and his bicycle
army would hurry along. That woman and Davy need attention. I'd hate
like the mischief to have either of them die. One doesn't want to kill
people, you know, Miss Gray."
"But they were killing me by inches," she protested.
"Ouch!" he groaned, his leg giving him a mighty twinge.
"What is it?" she cried in alarm. "Why should we wait for those men?
Come, Mr. Bonner, take me to the village--please do. I am crazy,
absolutely crazy, to see Daddy Crow and mother. I can walk there--how
far is it?--please come." She was running on eagerly in this strain
until she saw the look of pain in his face--the look he tried so hard to
conceal. She was standing straight and strong and eager before him, and
he was very pale under the tan.
"I can't, Miss Gray. I'm sorry, you know. See! Where there's smoke
there's fire--I mean, where there's blood there's a wound. I'm done for,
in other words."
"Done for? Oh, you're not--not going to die! Are you hurt? Why didn't
you tell me?" Whereupon she dropped to her knees at his side, her dark
eyes searching his intently, despair in them until the winning smile
struggled back into his. The captives chuckled audibly. "What can
I--what shall I do? Oh, why don't those men come! It must be noon or--"
"It's barely six A.
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