Both women started and stood staring with anxious, terrified eyes down the trail which led to the camp. Two shots had been fired almost simultaneously, and now, as they waited in horrified silence, two more shots rang out, echoing against the hills in the still air with ominous threat. After that all was quiet again.
Presently the strained look in the farm-wife's face relaxed, and she turned to her charge.
"That's him," she cried, with a swift return to her angry, contemptuous manner. "It's him showin' off--like all them scallawags. Come right in, missie," she added, holding out her hands to lead the girl home.
But her kindly intention received an unexpected shock. Joan brushed her roughly aside, and her look was almost of one suddenly demented.
"No, no," she cried in a voice of hysterical passion. "You don't understand. You can't understand. Those shots--oh! It is my fate--my curse. I must go!"
And she fled down the trail in the direction whence the sound had proceeded--fled, leaving Mrs. Ransford staring stupidly after her, a prey to utter bewilderment.