Two men stepped to the side of the carriage.

“Show your light, Bunker,” said the same rough voice that had spoken before.  Instantly a hooded lantern was uncovered, and Hannibal uttered a cry of terror.  He was looking into the face of Slosson, the tavern-keeper.

CHAPTER XXVII

PRISONERS

In the face of Betty’s indignant protest Slosson and the man named Bunker climbed into the carriage.

“Don’t you be scared, ma’am,” said the tavernkeeper, who smelt strongly of whisky.  “I wouldn’t lift my hand ag’in no good looking female except in kindness.”

“How dare you stop my carriage?” cried Betty, with a very genuine anger which for the moment dominated all her other emotions.  She struggled to her feet, but Slosson put out a heavy hand and thrust her back.

“There now,” he urged soothingly.  “Why make a fuss?  We ain’t going to harm you; we wouldn’t for no sum of money.  Drive on, Jim—­drive like hell!” This last was addressed to the man who had taken George’s place on the box, where a fourth member of Slosson’s band had forced the coachman down into the narrow space between the seat and dashboard, and was holding a pistol to his head while he sternly enjoined silence.

With a word to the horses Jim swung about and the carriage rolled off through the night at a breakneck’ pace.  Betty’s shaking hands drew Hannibal closer to her side as she felt the surge of her terrors rise within her.  Who were these men—­where could they be taking her—­and for what purpose?  The events of the past weeks linked themselves in tragic sequence in her mind.

What was it she had to fear?  Was it Tom who had inspired Norton’s murder?  Was it Tom for whom these men were acting?  Tom who would profit greatly by her disappearance or death.

They swept past the entrance at Belle Plain, past a break in the wall of the forest where the pale light of stars showed Betty the corn-field she and Hannibal had but lately crossed, and then on into pitchy darkness again.  She clung to the desperate hope that they might meet some one on the road, when she could cry out and give the alarm.  She held herself in readiness for this, but there was only the steady pounding of the big bays as Jim with voice and whip urged them forward.  At last he abruptly checked them, and Bunker and Slosson sprang from their seats.

“Get down, ma’am!” said the latter.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Betty, in a voice that shook in spite of her efforts to control it.

“You must hurry, ma’am,” urged Slosson impatiently.

“I won’t move until I know where you intend taking me!” said Betty, “If I am to die—­”

Mr. Slosson laughed loudly and indulgently.

“You ain’t.  If you don’t want to walk, I’m man enough fo’ to tote you.  We ain’t far to go, and I’ve tackled jobs I’d a heap less heart fo’ in my time,” he concluded gallantly.  From the opposite side of the carriage Bunker swore nervously.  He desired to know if they were to stand there talking all night.  “Shut your filthy mouth, Bunker, and see you keep tight hold of that young rip-staver,” said Slosson.  “He’s a perfect eel—­I’ve had dealings with him afore!”