At last
they came out on a wide bayou; a white mist hung above it, and on
the low shore leaf and branch were dripping with the night dews.
Keeping close to the water's edge Slosson led the way to a point
where a skiff was drawn up on the bank.
"Step in, ma'am," he said, when he had launched it.
"I will go no farther!" said Betty in desperation. She felt an
overmastering fear, the full horror of the unknown lay hold of
her, and she gave a piercing cry for help. Slosson swung about
on his heel and seized her. For a moment she struggled to
escape, but the man's big hands pinioned her.
"No more of that!" he warned, then he recovered himself and
laughed. "You could yell till you was black in the face, ma'am,
and there'd be no one to hear you."
"Where are you taking me?" and Betty's voice faltered between the
sudden sobs that choked her.
"Just across to George Hicks's."
"For what purpose?"
"You'll know in plenty of time." And Slosson leered at her
through the darkness.
"Hannibal is to go with me?" asked Betty tremulously.
"Sure!" agreed Slosson affably. "Your nigger, too--quite a
party."
Betty stepped into the skiff. She felt her hopes quicken--she
was thinking of Bess; whatever the girl's motives, she had wished
her to escape. She would wish it now more than ever since the
very thing she had striven to prevent had happened. Slosson
seated himself and took up the oars, Bunker followed with
Hannibal and they pushed off.
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