“What do you mean?” asked the astonished Fred Whitney.

“I must leave,” replied Sterry, rising to his feet; “I have already staid too long.”

CHAPTER IX.

A Summons and A reply.

Brother and sister were astounded.  The hour was late, and they had been urging their guest to remain several days with them.  He had not consented, nor had he refused, from which they were confident he would stay.

And now he announced his intention of departing at once, riding out into the night—­whither?

They protested, but he replied so earnestly that an urgent necessity existed that they refrained.  He gave no hint of the reason for his strange action, and they could not ask it.  His fleet mare, which had been allowed to graze on the succulent grass at the rear of the building with the other horses, was brought forward and saddled and bridled, and he quickly vaulted upon her back.

“Remember me to your mother; it is not worth while to disturb her; I hope soon to be with you again.”

He leaned over and pressed the hand of Fred Whitney, and then, raising his hat with his left hand, extended the right to Jennie.

Fred made an excuse to move away a few paces, for he understood the situation.

“Good-by,” Sterry said in a voice just low enough to reach the dear one, as he pressed the delicate hand which rested so trustingly in his own.

“Good-by,” she answered.  “I am sorry you are going.”

“So am I, but it is better that I should leave.  As I said, I trust soon to see you again.  Do you know why I hope Fred will decide to return to the East with you and your mother?”

“I suppose because we shall all be safer there;” and then she added, forgetting her sorrow for the moment, “that is if we do not go skating to Wolf Glen.”

“It is not necessary to remove as far as Maine, but father insists that I am wasting time here, when I ought to be home studying my profession.”

“And he is right, Monteith.”

“But,” he replied in a low voice, “before I go back I want to make sure that you will do the same.  There, good-by again.”

He replaced his hat, wheeled and dashed across the prairie without another word.

Jennie stood gazing in the direction taken by him for some time after he had disappeared in the gloom of the night.  Then she turned to speak to her brother, but he had passed within the house.  She resumed her seat, knowing he would soon return.

Fifteen minutes and more went by and she was still alone.

Sh!  Was she mistaken, or was that the faint sound of a horse’s hoofs in the distance?

She turned her head and listened.  The murmur of voices, as her brother and mother talked in low tones, did not disturb her, and the almost inaudible lowing of the cattle on the distant ranges was but a part of silence itself.