"Some one must have told."
"But no one knew except the Brackens, you and I." "I'll wager my head Bracken is saying hard things for fair down the river there."
"He—he—doesn't swear, Jack," she panted.
"Why, you are ready to drop! Can't you go a step farther? Let's stop here and face 'em. I'll bluff 'em out and we'll get to Bracken's some way. But I won't give up the game! Not for a million!"
"Then we can't stop. You forget I go in for gymnasium work. I'm as strong as anything, only I'm—I'm a bit nervous. Oh, I knew something would go wrong!" she wailed. They were now standing like trapped deer in a little thicket, listening for sounds of the hounds.
"Are you sorry, dear?"
"No, no! I love you, Jack, and I'll go through everything with you and for you. Really," she cried with a fine show of enthusiasm, "this is jolly good fun, isn't it? Being chased like regular bandits—"
"Sh! Drop down, dear! There's somebody passing above us—hear him?"
They crawled into a maze of hazel bushes with much less dignity than haste. Two men sped by an instant later, panting and growling.
"Safe for a minute or two at least," he whispered as the crunching footsteps were lost to the ear. "They won't come back this way, dear."
"They had guns, Jack!" she whispered, terrified.
"I don't understand it, hanged if I do," he said, pulling his brows into a mighty scowl. "They are after us like a pack of hounds. It must mean something. Lord, but we seem to have stirred up a hornet's nest!"
"Oh, dear, I wish we were safely at—" she paused.
"At home?" he asked quickly.
"At Bracken's," she finished; and if any of the pursuers had been near enough he might have heard the unmistakable suggestion of a kiss.
"I feel better," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Now, let me think. We must outwit these fellows, whoever they are. By George, I remember one of them! That old fellow who bought the horse is with them. That's it! The horse is mixed up in this, I'll bet my head." They sat upon the ground for several minutes, he thinking deeply, she listening with her pretty ears intent.
"I wonder if they've left anybody to guard our boat?" he said suddenly. "Come on, Marjory; let's investigate! By George, it would be just like them to leave it unprotected!"
Once more they were moving cautiously through the brush, headed for the river. Mr. Jack Barnes, whoever he was and whatever his crime, was a resourceful, clever young man. He had gauged the intelligence of the pursuers correctly. When he peered through the brush along the river bank he saw the skiff in the reeds below, just as they had left it. There was the lunch basket, the wee bit of a steamer trunk with all its labels, a parasol and a small handbag.
"Goody, goody!" Marjory cried like a happy child.
"Don't show yourself yet, dearie. I'll make sure. They may have an ambuscade. Wait here for me."
He crept down the bank and back again before she could fully subdue the tremendous thumping his temerity had started in her left side.
"It's safe and sound," he whispered joyously. "The idiots have forgotten the boat. Quick, dear; let's make a dash for it! Their raft is upstream a hundred yards, and it is also deserted. If we can once get well across the river we can give them the laugh."
"But they may shoot us from the bank," she protested as they plunged through the weeds.
"They surely wouldn't shoot a woman!" he cried gayly.
"But you are not a woman!"
"And I'm not afraid of mice or men. Jump in!"
Off from the weeds shot the light skiff. The water splashed for a moment under the spasmodic strokes of the oarsman, and then the little boat streaked out into the river like a thing of life. Marjory sat in the stern and kept her eyes upon the bank they were leaving. Jack Barnes drove every vestige of his strength into the stroke; somehow he pulled like a man who had learned how on a college crew. They were half way across the broad river before they were seen from the hills. The half dozen men who lingered at the base of Crow's Cliff had shouted the alarm to their friends on the other side, and the fugitives were sighted once more. But it was too late. The boat was well out of gunshot range and making rapid progress downstream in the shelter of the high bluffs below Crow's Cliff. Jack Barnes was dripping with perspiration, but his stroke was none the feebler.
"They see us!" she cried.
"Don't wriggle so, Marjory—trim boat!" he panted. "They can't hit us, and we can go two miles to their one."
"And we can get to Bracken's!" she cried triumphantly. A deep flush overspread her pretty face.
"Hooray!" he shouted with a grin of pure delight. Far away on the opposite bank Anderson Crow and his sleuths were congregating, their baffled gaze upon the man who had slipped out of their grasp. The men of the posse were pointing at the boat and arguing frantically; there were decided signs of dispute among them. Finally two guns flew up, and then came the puffs of smoke, the reports and little splashes of water near the flying skiff.
"Oh, they are shooting!" she cried in a panic.
"And rifles, too," he grated, redoubling his pull on the oars. Other shots followed, all falling short. "Get down in the bottom of the boat, Marjory. Don't sit up there and be—"
"I'll sit right where I am," she cried defiantly.
Anderson Crow waved to the men under Crow's Cliff, and they began to make their arduous way along the bank in the trail of the skiff. Part of the armed posse hurried down and boarded the raft, while others followed the chase by land.
"We'll beat them to Bracken's by a mile," cried Jack Barnes.
"If they don't shoot us," she responded. "Why, oh, why are they so intent upon killing us?"
"They don't want you to be a widow and—break a—lot of hearts," he said. "If they—hit me now you—won't be—dangerous as a—widow."
"Oh, you heartless thing! How can you jest about it? I'd—I'd go into mourning, anyway, Jack," she concluded, on second thought. "We are just as good as married, you see."
"It's nice—of you to say it, dear—but we're a long—way from—Bracken's. Gee! That was close!"
A bullet splashed in the water not ten feet from the boat. "The cowards! They're actually trying to kill us!" For the first time his face took on a look of alarm and his eyes grew desperate. "I can't let them shoot at you, Marjory, dear! What the dickens they want I don't know, but I'm going to surrender." He had stopped rowing and was making ready to wave his white handkerchief on high.
"Never!" she cried with blazing eyes. "Give me the oars!" She slid into the other rowing seat and tried to snatch the oars from the rowlocks.
"Bravo! I could kiss you a thousand times for that. Come on, you Indians! You're a darling, Marjory." Again the oars caught the water, and Jack Barnes's white handkerchief lay in the bottom of the boat. He was rowing for dear life, and there was a smile on his face.
The raft was left far behind and the marksmen were put out of range with surprising ease. Fifteen minutes later the skiff shot across the river and up to the landing of Bracken's boathouse, while a mile back in the brush Anderson Crow and his men were wrathfully