Judith.  He took your place:  he is dying to save you.  That is why he went in your coat.  That is why I kissed him.

Anderson (exploding).  Blood an’ owns! (His voice is rough and dominant, his gesture full of brute energy.) Here!  Essie, Essie!

Essie (running in).  Yes.

Anderson (impetuously).  Off with you as hard as you can run, to the inn.  Tell them to saddle the fastest and strongest horse they have (Judith rises breathless, and stares at him incredulously)—­ the chestnut mare, if she’s fresh—­without a moment’s delay.  Go into the stable yard and tell the black man there that I’ll give him a silver dollar if the horse is waiting for me when I come, and that I am close on your heels.  Away with you. (His energy sends Essie flying from the room.  He pounces on his riding boots; rushes with them to the chair at the fire; and begins pulling them on.)

Judith (unable to believe such a thing of him).  You are not going to him!

Anderson (busy with the boots).  Going to him!  What good would that do? (Growling to himself as he gets the first boot on with a wrench) I’ll go to them, so I will. (To Judith peremptorily) Get me the pistols:  I want them.  And money, money:  I want money—­all the money in the house. (He stoops over the other boot, grumbling) A great satisfaction it would be to him to have my company on the gallows. (He pulls on the boot.)

Judith.  You are deserting him, then?

Anderson.  Hold your tongue, woman; and get me the pistols. (She goes to the press and takes from it a leather belt with two pistols, a powder horn, and a bag of bullets attached to it.  She throws it on the table.  Then she unlocks a drawer in the press and takes out a purse.  Anderson grabs the belt and buckles it on, saying) If they took him for me in my coat, perhaps they’ll take me for him in his. (Hitching the belt into its place) Do I look like him?

Judith (turning with the purse in her hand).  Horribly unlike him.

Anderson (snatching the purse from her and emptying it on the table).  Hm!  We shall see.

Judith (sitting down helplessly).  Is it of any use to pray, do you think, Tony?

Anderson (counting the money).  Pray!  Can we pray Swindon’s rope off Richard’s neck?

Judith.  God may soften Major Swindon’s heart.

Anderson (contemptuously—­pocketing a handful of money).  Let him, then.  I am not God; and I must go to work another way. (Judith gasps at the blasphemy.  He throws the purse on the table.) Keep that.  I’ve taken 25 dollars.

Judith.  Have you forgotten even that you are a minister?

Anderson.  Minister be—­faugh!  My hat:  where’s my hat? (He snatches up hat and cloak, and puts both on in hot haste.) Now listen, you.  If you can get a word with him by pretending you’re his wife, tell him to hold his tongue until morning:  that will give me all the start I need.