Then he attempted
conversation with the horse-thief, but was savagely cursed for
his pains. "Well, I don't envy you your company none, sir," he
remarked as he took leave of the judge.
Standing before the window, the judge watched the last vestige of
light fade from the sky and the stars appear. Would Mahaffy
come? The suspense was intolerable. It was possibly eight
o'clock. He could not reasonably expect Mahaffy until nine or
half past; to come earlier would be too great a risk. Suddenly
out of the silence sounded a long-drawn whistle. Three times it
was repeated. The horse-thief leaped to his feet.
"Neighbor, that means me!" he cried.
The moon was rising now, and by its light the judge saw a number
of horsemen appear on the edge of the woods. They entered the
clearing, picking their way among the stumps without haste or
confusion. When quite close, five of the band dismounted; the
rest continued on about the jail or cantered off toward the road.
By this time the judge's teeth were chattering and he was
dripping cold sweat at every pore. He prayed earnestly that they
might hang the horsethief and spare him. The dismounted men took
up a stick of timber that had been cut for the jail and not used.
"Look out inside, there!" cried a voice, and the log was dashed
against the door; once--twice--it rose and fell on the
clapboards, and under those mighty thuds grew up a wide gap
through which the moonlight streamed splendidly.
Pages:
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158