"That'll do, he's had enough; we ain't to kill him this time," he
said. An instant later he, with his two companions, had vanished
silently into the woods.
Norton's horse trotted down the road. When it entered the yard
at Thicket Point half an hour later, Carrington was on the porch.
"Is that you, Norton?" he called, but there was no response, and
he saw the horse was riderless. "Jeff!" he cried, summoning
Norton's servant from the house.
"What's the matter, Mas'r?" asked the negro, as he appeared in
the open door.
"Why, here's Mr. Norton's horse come home without him. Do you
know where he went this afternoon?"
"I heard him say he reckoned he'd ride over to Belle Plain,
Mas'r," answered Jeff, grinning. "I 'low the hoss done broke
away and come home by himself--he couldn't a-throwed Mas'r
Charley!"
"We'll make sure of that. Get lanterns, and a couple of the
boys!" said Carrington.
It was mid-afternoon of the day following before Betty heard of
the attack on Charley Norton. Tom brought the news, and she at
once ordered her horse saddled and was soon out on the river road
with a black groom trailing along through the dust in her wake.
Tom's version of the attack was that Charley, had been robbed and
all but murdered, and Betty never drew rein until she reached
Thicket Point. As she galloped into the yard Bruce Carrington
came from the house. At sight of the girl, with her wind-blown
halo of bright hair, he paused uncertainly.
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