He bounded forward to be flung back by Naab's arm.
"Fool! Would you throw away your life? Go slowly. We'll slip through
the fields, under the trees."
Sick and cold Hare hurried by Naab's side round the wall and into the
alfalfa. There were moments when he was weak and trembling; others when
he could have leaped like a tiger to rend and kill.
They left the fields and went on more cautiously into the grove. The
screaming and wailing of women added certainty to their doubt and dread.
"I see only the women--the children--no--there's a man--Zeke," said Hare,
bending low to gaze under the branches.
"Go slow," muttered Naab.
"The rustlers rode off--after Mescal--she's gone!" panted Judith.
Hare, spurred by the possibilities in the half-crazed girl's speech, cast
caution to the winds and dashed forward into the glade. Naab's heavy
steps thudded behind him.
In the corner of the porch scared and stupefied children huddled in a
heap. George and Billy bent over Dave, who sat white-faced against the
steps. Blood oozed through the fingers pressed to his breast. Zeke was
trying to calm the women.
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