They had reached the stable and dismounted, but neither moved to go in.

“I reckon you ought to know the truth, Washburn, since you saw her there so late at night,” said Westerfelt, hesitatingly.  “The fact is, she came to warn me.  I suppose she knew Wambush would try to kill me, and she didn’t want to—­”

“She don’t keer a snap for Wambush, ef that’s what you mean,” said Washburn, when he saw that Westerfelt was going no farther.  “I know it’s been the talk, an’ she no doubt did like him a little at one time, but the’ ain’t but one man livin’ she keers fer now.  It ain’t none o’ my business—­I’m no hand to meddle, but I know women!  She kep’ cryin’ an’ sayin’ that they’d murder you, an’ ef they did she’d kill Toot Wambush ur die in the attempt.  I’m tellin’ you a straight tale.”

Westerfelt sat down in a chair at the side of the door.  Washburn led the horse into the stable and put him into a stall.  Then he came back.  Westerfelt’s hands were over his face, but he took them down when he heard Washburn’s step.

“Did—­did she hurt herself when she fell?” he asked.

“No, she’s all right.”  Washburn hesitated a moment, then he added:  “Mr. Westerfelt, you ought to go up to yore room an’ try to rest some; this night’s been purty rough on you atter bein’ down in bed so long.”

Westerfelt rose silently and went through the office and up the stairs.

Chapter XIV

The dawn was breaking when Harriet Floyd stole up to her room under the slant of the roof.  She had no idea of trying to sleep.  She sat down on the side of the bed, shivering with cold.  Through the small-paned dormer window the gray light fell, bringing into vague relief the different objects in the room.  Down in the back yard the chickens were flapping their wings and crowing lustily.  Through the dingy glass she could see the cow-lot, the sagging roof of the wagon-shed, the barn, the ricks of hay, and the bare branches of the apple-trees still holding a few late apples.  Her shoes were wet with dew and her dress and shawl hung limply about her.

There was a sudden step in the hall; a hand touched the latch; the door opened cautiously.

“Harriet!”

“Yes, mother.”

Mrs. Floyd glided across the floor, sat down on the bed by her daughter, and stared at her in wonder.

“Where on earth have you been?  I have been watching for you all night.  Oh, my child, what is the matter?  What has gone wrong?”

“I have been out trying to save Mr. Westerfelt.  Toot led the Regulators down an’ they took him out.  I warned him, but he would not go in time and they took him to the mountain.”

“Good Heavens! what did they intend to do with him?”

“Most of them meant only to frighten him and to whip him, but Toot Wambush will kill him if he gets a chance.”

“I don’t believe they’ll harm him,” said Mrs. Floyd, consolingly.  “Anyway, we can’t do anything; get in bed and let me cover you up; you are damp to the skin and all of a quiver; you’ll catch your death sitting here.”