"It fits all right. March--toward that horse!"
Without a word the old man slouched ahead to where the big black
horse was restlessly waiting in the bushes.
"Climb up," said Hale. "We won't 'ride and tie' back to town--but
I'll take turns with you on the horse."
The Red Fox was making ready to leave the mountains, for he had
been falsely informed that Rufe was to be brought back to the
county seat next day, and he was searching again for the sole bit
of evidence that was out against him. And when Rufe was spirited
back to jail and was on his way to his cell, an old freckled hand
was thrust between the bars of an iron door to greet him and a
voice called him by name. Rufe stopped in amazement; then he burst
out laughing; he struck then at the pallid face through the bars
with his manacles and cursed the old man bitterly; then he laughed
again horribly. The two slept in adjoining cells of the same cage
that night--the one waiting for the scaffold and the other waiting
for the trial that was to send him there. And away over the blue
mountains a little old woman in black sat on the porch of her
cabin as she had sat patiently many and many a long day.
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