The Gentleman from Indiana - Page 84/212

Lige chuckled as they left the kitchen. "I guess you didn't try too hard

to shut that door, Harkless," he said, and then, when they came into the

lighted room, "Why, where is Harkless?" he asked. "Didn't he come with

us from the kitchen?"

"No," answered Helen, faintly; "he's gone." She sank upon the sofa and

drew her hand across her eyes as if to shade them from too sudden light.

"Gone!" The judge dropped his book and stared across the table at the

girl. "Gone! When?"

"Ten minutes--five--half an hour--I don't know. Before the storm

commenced."

"Oh!" The old gentleman appeared to be reassured. "Probably he had work to

do and wanted to get in before the rain."

But Lige Willetts was turning pale. He swallowed several times with

difficulty. "Which way did he go? He didn't come around the house; we were

out there till the storm broke."

"He went by the orchard gate. When he got to the road he turned that way."

She pointed to the west.

"He must have been crazy!" exclaimed the judge. "What possessed the

fellow?"

"I couldn't stop him. I didn't know how." She looked at her three

companions, slowly and with growing terror, from one face to another.

Minnie's eyes were wide and she had unconsciously grasped Lige's arm; the

young man was looking straight before him; the judge got up and walked

nervously back and forth. Helen rose to her feet swiftly and went toward

the old man, her hands pressed to her bosom.

"Ah!" she cried out, sharply, "I had forgotten that! You don't think

they--you don't think----"

"I know what I think," Lige broke in; "I think I'd ought to be hanged for

letting him out of my sight. Maybe it's all right; maybe he turned and

started right back for town--and got there. But I had no business to leave

him, and if I can I'll catch up with him yet." He went to the front door,

and, opening it, let in a tornado of wind and flood of water that beat him

back; sheets of rain blew in horizontally, in spite of the porch beyond.

Briscoe followed him. "Don't be a fool, Lige," he said. "You hardly expect

to go out in that." Lige shook his head; it needed them both to get the

door closed. The young man leaned against it and passed his sleeve across

his wet brow. "I hadn't ought to have left him."

"Don't scare the girls," whispered the other; then in a louder tone: "All

I'm afraid of is that he'll get blown to pieces or catch his death of

cold. That's all there is to worry about. Those scalawags wouldn't try it

again so soon after last night. I'm not bothering about that; not at all.

That needn't worry anybody."