Brief as the glimpse had been, she was positive she recognised two faces in the crowd of men—­Anderson Crow’s and Ed Higgins’s.  It meant, if her eyes did not deceive her, that the searchers were near at hand, and that dear, old Daddy Crow was leading them.  Her hopes flew upward and she could not subdue the triumphant glance that swept the startled crowd when Bill breathlessly broke the news.

Absolute quiet reigned in the cave after that.  Maude cowed the prisoner into silence with the threat to cut out her tongue if she uttered a cry.  Later, the tramp of feet could be heard on the floor of the cabin.  There was a sound of voices, loud peals of laughter, and then the noise made by some one in the cellar that served as a blind at one end of the cabin.  After that, dead silence.  At nightfall, Sam stealthily ventured forth to reconnoitre.  He came back with the report that the woods and swamps were clear and that the searchers, if such they were, had gone away.

“The house, since Davy’s grandma’s bones were stored away in that cellar for several moons, has always been thought to be haunted.  The fools probably thought they saw a ghost—­an’ they’re runnin’ yet.”

Then for the first time Rosalie realised that she was in the haunted cabin in the swamp, the most fearsome of all places in the world to Tinkletown, large and small.  Not more than three miles from her own fireside!  Not more than half an hour’s walk from Daddy Crow and others in the warmth of whose love she had lived so long!

“It’s gettin’ too hot here for us,” growled Sam at supper.  “We’ve just got to do something.  I’m going out to-night to see if there’s any word from the—­from the party.  These guys ain’t all fools.  Somebody is liable to nose out the trap-door before long and there’ll be hell to pay.  They won’t come back before to-morrow, I reckon.  By thunder, there ought to be word from the—­the boss by this time.  Lay low, everybody; I’ll be back before daybreak.  This time I’m a-goin’ to find out something sure or know the reason why.  I’m gettin’ tired of this business.  Never know what minute the jig’s up, nor when the balloon busts.”

Again he stole forth into the night, leaving his companions more or less uneasy as to the result, after the startling events of the afternoon.  Hour after hour passed, and with every minute therein, Rosalie’s ears strained themselves to catch the first sound of approaching rescuers.  Her spirits fell, but her hopes were high.  She felt sure that the men outside had seen her face and that at last they had discovered the place in which she was kept.  It would only be a question of time until they learned the baffling secret of the trap-door.  Her only fear lay in the possibility that she might be removed by her captors before the rescuers could accomplish her delivery.  Her bright, feverish, eager eyes, gleaming from the sunken white cheeks, appealed to Bill Briggs more than he cared to admit.  The ruffian, less hardened than his fellows, began to feel sorry for her.