CHAPTER XVIII

The Men in the Sleigh

Let us go back to the night on which Rosalie was seized and carried away

from Mrs. Luce's front gate, despite the valiant resistance of her

youthful defenders.

Rosalie had drooned Thackeray to the old lady until both of them were

dozing, and it was indeed a welcome relief that came with Roscoe's

resounding thumps on the front door. Mrs. Luce was too old to be

frightened out of a year's growth, but it is perfectly safe to agree

with her that the noise cost her at least three months.

Desperately blue over the defection of Elsie Banks, Rosalie had found

little to make her evening cheerful indoors, but the fresh, crisp air

set her spirits bounding the instant she closed Mrs. Luce's door from

the outside. We have only to refer to Roscoe's lively narrative for

proof of what followed almost instantly. She was seized, her head

tightly wrapped in a thick cloak or blanket; then she was thrown into a

sleigh, and knew nothing more except a smothering sensation and the

odour of chloroform.

When she regained consciousness she was lying on the ground in the open

air, dark night about her. Three men were standing nearby, but there was

no vehicle in sight. She tried to rise, but on account of her bonds was

powerless to do so. Speech was prevented by the cloth which closed her

lips tightly. After a time she began to grasp the meaning of the

muttered words that passed between the men.

"You got the rig in all right, Bill--you're sure that no one heard or

saw you?" were the first questions she could make out, evidently arising

from a previous report or explanation.

"Sure. Everybody in these parts goes to bed at sundown. They ain't got

nothing to do but sleep up 'ere."

"Nobody knows we had that feller's sleigh an' horses out--nobody ever

will know," said the big man, evidently the leader. She noticed they

called him Sam.

"Next thing is to git her across the river without leavin' any tracks.

We ain't on a travelled road now, pals; we got to be careful. I'll carry

her down to the bank; but be sure to step squarely in my

footprints--it'll look like they were made by one man. See?"

"The river's froze over an' we can't be tracked on the ice. It's too

dark, too, for any one to see us. Go ahead, Sammy; it's d---- cold

here."

The big man lifted her from the ground as if she were a feather, and she

was conscious of being borne swiftly through a stretch of sloping

woodland down to the river bank, a journey of two or three hundred

yards, it seemed. Here the party paused for many minutes before

venturing out upon the wide expanse of frozen river, evidently making

sure that the way was clear. Rosalie, her senses quite fully restored by

this time, began to analyse the situation with a clearness and calmness

that afterward was the object of considerable surprise to her. Instead

of being hysterical with fear, she was actually experiencing the thrill

of a real emotion. She had no doubt but that her abductors were persons

hired by those connected with her early history, and, strange as it may

seem, she could not believe that bodily harm was to be her fate after

all these years of secret attention on the part of those so deeply,

though remotely, interested.

Somehow there raced through her brain the exhilarating conviction that

at last the mystery of her origin was to be cleared away, and with it

all that had been as a closed book. No thought of death entered her mind

at that time. Afterward she was to feel that death would be most

welcome, no matter how it came.

Her captors made the trip across the river in dead silence. There was no

moon and the night was inky black. The exposed portions of her face

tingled with cold, but she was so heavily wrapped in the blanket that

her body did not feel the effects of the zero weather.

At length the icy stretch was passed, and after resting a few minutes,

Sam proceeded to ascend the steep bank with her in his arms. Why she was

not permitted to walk she did not know then or afterward. It is

possible, even likely, that the men thought their charge was

unconscious. She did nothing to cause them to think otherwise. Again

they passed among trees, Sam's companions following in his footprints as

before. Another halt and a brief command for Davy to go ahead and see

that the coast was clear came after a long and tortuous struggle through

the underbrush. Twice they seemed to have lost their bearings in the

darkness, but eventually they came into the open.

"Here we are!" grunted Sam as they hurried across the clearing. "A hard

night's work, pals, but I guess we're in Easy Street now. Go ahead,

Davy, an' open the trap!"

Davy swore a mighty but sibilant oath and urged his thick, ugly figure

ahead of the others.

A moment later the desperadoes and their victim passed through a door

and into a darkness even blacker than that outside. Davy was pounding

carefully upon the floor of the room in which they stood. Suddenly a

faint light spread throughout the room and a hoarse, raucous voice

whispered:

"Have you got her?"

"Get out of the way--we're near froze," responded Davy gruffly.

"Get down there, Bill, and take her; I'm tired carryin' this hundred and

twenty pounder," growled Sam.

The next instant Rosalie was conscious of being lowered through a trap

door in the floor, and then of being borne rapidly through a long,

narrow passage, lighted fitfully by the rays of a lantern in the hands

of a fourth and as yet unseen member of the band.

"There!" said Bill, impolitely dropping his burden upon a pile of straw

in the corner of the rather extensive cave at the end of the passage;

"wonder if the little fool is dead. She ought to be coming to by this

time."

"She's got her eyes wide open," uttered the raucous voice on the

opposite side; and Rosalie turned her eyes in that direction. She looked

for a full minute as if spellbound with terror, her gaze centred at the

most repulsive human face she ever had seen--the face of Davy's mother.

The woman was a giantess, a huge, hideous creature with the face of a

man, hairy and bloated. Her unkempt hair was grey almost to whiteness,

her teeth were snags, and her eyes were almost hidden beneath the shaggy

brow. There was a glare of brutal satisfaction in them that appalled the

girl.

For the first time since the adventure began her heart failed her, and

she shuddered perceptibly as her lids fell.

"What the h---- are you skeering her fer like that, ma," growled Davy.

"Don't look at her like that, or--"

"See here, my boy, don't talk like that to me if you don't want me to

kick your head off right where you stand. I'm your mother, Davy, an'--"

"That'll do. This ain't no time to chew the rag," muttered Sam. "We're

done fer. Get us something to eat an' something to drink, old woman;

give the girl a nifter, too. She's fainted, I reckon. Hurry up; I want

to turn in."

"Better untie her hands--see if she's froze," added Bill savagely.

Roughly the old woman slashed the bonds from the girl's hands and feet

and then looked askance at Sam, who stood warming his hands over a

kerosene stove not far away. He nodded his head, and she instantly

untied the cloth that covered Rosalie's mouth.

"It won't do no good to scream, girl. Nobody'll hear ye but us--and

we're your friends," snarled the old woman.

"Let her yell if she wants to, Maude. It may relieve her a bit," said

Sam, meaning to be kind. Instinctively Rosalie looked about for the

person addressed as Maude. There was but one woman in the gang. Maude!

That was the creature's name. Instead of crying or shrieking, Rosalie

laughed outright.

At the sound of the laugh the woman drew back hastily.

"By gor!" she gasped; "the--she's gone daffy!"

The men turned toward them with wonder in their faces. Bill was the

first to comprehend. He saw the girl's face grow sober with an effort,

and realised that she was checking her amusement because it was sure to

offend.

"Aw," he grinned, "I don't blame her fer laughin'! Say what ye will,

Maude, your name don't fit you."

"It's as good as any name--" began the old hag, glaring at him; but Sam

interposed with a command to her to get them some hot coffee while he

had a talk with the girl. "Set up!" he said roughly, addressing Rosalie.

"We ain't goin' to hurt you."

Rosalie struggled to a sitting posture, her limbs and back stiff from

the cold and inaction. "Don't ask questions, because they won't be

answered. I jest want to give you some advice as to how you must act

while you are our guest. You must be like one of the family. Maybe we'll

be here a day, maybe a week, but it won't be any longer than that."

"Would you mind telling me where I am and what this all means? Why have

you committed this outrage? What have I done--" she found voice to say.

He held up his hand.

"You forget what I said about askin' questions. There ain't nothin' to

tell you, that's all. You're here and that's enough."

"Well, who is it that has the power to answer questions, sir? I have

some right to ask them. You have--"

"That'll do, now!" he growled. "I'll put the gag back on you if you

keep it up. So's you won't worry, I want to say this to you: Your

friends don't know where you are, and they couldn't find you if they

tried. You are to stay right here in this cave until we get orders to

move you. When the time comes we'll take you to wherever we're ordered,

and then we're through with you. Somebody else will have the say. You

won't be hurt here unless you try to escape--it won't do you any good to

yell. It ain't a palace, but it's better than the grave. So be wise. All

we got to do is to turn you over to the proper parties at the proper

time. That's all."

"Is the person you speak of my--my mother or my father?" Rosalie asked

with bated breath.