“I will kill you if you follow me,” he heard, as she passed the open window.
He believed her. He was afraid. He went to the door, limped back, and, falling into a chair, stuffed fingers into his ears, while sweat of terror ran down his cheeks. A moment passed, then another, and, despite his childlike precaution, he heard his rifle ring through the forest stillness, and upon this he burst into tears, and cried aloud, “Oh, Lord, oh, Lord God!”
As he spoke, he rose up, and stood in agony of expectation. The woman came in.
“I ain’t none. Last charge,” he gasped. “Did you miss him?”
“Miss! No. Take an ax, and go and make sure. He ain’t to be feared now. I hit him sure. Go and get the money. Haven’t you that much pluck, you sot?”
“He’s got his gun, Joe, and I had a notion he might be just crippled, and I’d come and get a load and make certain.”
As she spoke, he stood by her, swaying on his feet, dazed.
“Not that sort,” he said, slowly. “Did you say you done it, Susie?”
“Did I? You fool! Go and get the money. He won’t hinder you none.”
She looked about her, in no wise intimidated or hurried. An ax stood in the corner.
“Go and get a spade,” she said. “I’ll fetch the money.” And, seizing the ax, she thrust him aside as he stood in the doorway. “You white-livered coward, get out of my way, or I’ll brain you.”
He shrunk aside. He could only say, “Susie! Susie! Don’t—don’t!”
“Off with you!” And passing him, with no more words, she ran around the cabin and disappeared in the darkening forest.
This time she moved with extreme caution, so as to approach her victim in another direction. Nevertheless, being, like most of the forest-dwelling women, a fair shot, she felt coolly certain of her prey.
After leaving Joe, Carington had followed the brook, or rather the trail beside it, for some hundred yards, when he noticed a gleam of white among the shadows. Anything unusual in the forest is sure to win instant notice from men accustomed to wandering and to keeping all their senses alert. Moreover, he was now keenly observant. He stopped, and, crossing the brook, broke through the undergrowth, and stood at once in a clearing some twenty yards wide. As he came nearer to the three little mounds, now dimly visible, he saw the white slab, and instantly understood that his guess had been correct. A little while he remained still, in thought recalling what Dorothy had said, and gradually seeing in his mind the pitifulness of it all: the crude animal eagerness of the mother; the rough, unthinking man’s wish to please her.