street to the jail.

"What are they going to do?" He steadied himself, resting his hand on
her shoulder, and looked through a pane above her head.

"To take Toot out."

"An' then he'll lead them, won't he?"

"I don't know! I reckon so--oh, I can't tell!" She faced him for an
instant, a look of helpless indecision in her eyes; then she turned
again to the window.

"I'll go slip on my coat," he said. "I--I'm cold. I'd better get
ready. You see, he may want to--call me out. I wish I had a gun--or
something."

She made no answer, and he went into his room. He turned up the lamp,
but quickly lowered it again. He found his coat on a chair and put it
on. He wondered if he were actually afraid. Surely he had never felt
so before; perhaps his mind was not right--his wound and all his mental
trouble had affected his nerves, and then a genuine thrill of horror
went over him. Might not this be the particular form of punishment
Providence had singled out for the murderer of Sally Dawson--might it
not be the grewsome, belated answer to her mother's prayer?

Just then Harriet entered the room softly and turned his light down
still lower.

"Stay back here," she said, her tone almost a command.