"I'll go with you, Horton, and make a sketch or two," volunteered
George Lescott, who just then arrived from town. "And, by the way,
Samson, here's a letter that came for you just as I left the studio."
The mountaineer took the envelope with a Hixon postmark, and for an
instant gazed at it with a puzzled expression. It was addressed in a
feminine hand, which he did not recognize. It was careful, but perfect,
writing, such as one sees in a school copybook. With an apology he tore
the covering, and read the letter. Adrienne, glancing at his face, saw
it suddenly pale and grow as set and hard as marble.
Samson's eyes were dwelling with only partial comprehension on the
script. This is what he read: "DEAR SAMSON: The war is on again. Tamarack Spicer has killed Jim Asberry,
and the Hollmans have killed Tamarack. Uncle Spicer is shot, but he may
get well. There is nobody to lead the Souths. I am trying to hold them
down until I hear from you. Don't come if you don't want to--but the gun
is ready. With love, SALLY."