When the meeting was over, the people gathered in groups and talked with
one another. The girl who had handed the book came over and spoke to the
strangers, putting out her hand pleasantly. She was the missionary's
daughter.
"What is this? School?" asked the stranger eagerly.
"Yes, this is the schoolhouse," said the missionary's daughter; "but this
meeting is Christian Endeavor. Do you live near here? Can't you come every
time?"
"No. I live a long way off," said the girl sadly. "That is, I did. I
don't live anywhere now. I'm going away."
"I wish you lived here. Then you could come to our meeting. Did you have a
Christian Endeavor where you lived?"
"No. I never saw one before. It's nice. I like it."
Another girl came up now, and put out her hand in greeting. "You must come
again," she said politely.
"I don't know," said the visitor. "I sha'n't be coming back soon."
"Are you going far?"
"As far as I can. I'm going East."
"O," said the inquisitor; and then, seeing the missionary's daughter was
talking to some one else, she whispered, nodding toward the man, "Is he
your husband?"
The girl looked startled, while a slow color mounted into her cheeks.
"No," said she gravely, thoughtfully. "But--he saved my life a little
while ago."
"Oh!" said the other, awestruck. "My! And ain't he handsome? How did he do
it?"
But the girl could not talk about it. She shuddered.
"It was a dreadful snake," she said, "and I was--I didn't see it. It was
awful! I can't tell you about it."
"My!" said the girl. "How terrible!"
The people were passing out now. The man was talking with the missionary,
asking the road to somewhere. The girl suddenly realized that this hour of
preciousness was over, and life was to be faced again. Those men, those
terrible men! She had recognized the others as having been among her
brother's funeral train. Where were they, and why had they gone that way?
Were they on her track? Had they any clue to her whereabouts? Would they
turn back pretty soon, and catch her when the people were gone home?
It appeared that the nearest town was Malta, sixteen miles away, down in
the direction where the party of men had passed. There were only four
houses near the schoolhouse, and they were scattered in different
directions along the stream in the valley. The two stood still near the
door after the congregation had scattered. The girl suddenly shivered. As
she looked down the road, she seemed again to see the coarse face of the
man she feared, and to hear his loud laughter and oaths. What if he should
come back again? "I cannot go that way!" she said, pointing down the trail
toward Malta. "I would rather die with wild beasts."