"See here, mother!" said Bill. "There's one or two things we want to know. Spit out the truth, and that'll be all right. Tell us one lie, and there'll be an end of you. Understand?"  
"I ought to."
 
"Right you are, then; now you know. What about this key?"
 
"She keeps it in her room."
 
"Under her pillow, eh?"
 
"That I can't say; but she will tell you."
 
"So we reckon. Now look here. Will you take your oath there's not another soul on the premises¹ but you and her?"
 
The pair within again held their breath. They must be discovered; but the longer they could postpone² it the shorter would be[Pg 211] their danger. Mrs. Potter's heart was stout³, however, and her tongue ready.
 
"I swear it," she cried, heartily⁴.
 
"What makes you so cussed sure?"
 
"Why, it stands to reason. By rights there ought to be four of us. That's with Sam Rowntree and Mr. Engelhardt. Sam's gone off on his own hook somewhere"—Bill chuckled—"but nobody knows where. Mr. Engelhardt's lost, as I told you. So there's nobody left but mistress and me. How could there be?"
 
"I don't know or care a curse how there could be. I only know that if there is, you'll have a pill to take without opening your mouth for it. About this chap that's lost; you'll take your oath he didn't turn up before you left the station just now?"
 
"I told you he hadn't, as soon as ever you overtook me."
 
"You've got to swear it!" said Bill, savagely⁵.
 
"I swore it then."
 
"So she did," said Simons, who had been grumbling⁶ openly during this cross-examination. "What's the good of going over the same track twice, mate? Let her give us the feed she promised, and then let's get to work."
 
"And so say I!" cried the Bo's'n.
 
"You shall have your supper in five minutes," said Mrs. Potter, "if you'll let me get it."
 
"All right, missus," said Bill, after a pause. "Only mind, if we catch you in any hanky-panky, by God I'll screw your neck till I put your face where your back-hair ought to be. Don't you dare get on the cross with us, or there'll be trouble! Come on, chaps. You show the way to the dining-room, mother, and light up; then we'll...."
 
The rest sounded indistinct in the store. The low crunching⁷ of the foot-falls in the sandy yard changed to a crisp clatter⁸ upon the homestead veranda⁹. Naomi waited for that sign; then with a white face and eager hands she began to tear down, prop¹⁰ by prop, the barricade¹¹ on which their very lives depended.
 
"She shall not suffer for this, whoever else does," she muttered. "At least she sha'n't suffer alone."
 
"You mean to open the door?"
 
"Yes, and catch her as she passes. To get to the kitchen she must pass close to the store. We'll open the door, and if she's wise she'll pass three or four times without turning her head; she'll wait till they're[Pg 213] well at work; then she'll come back for something else—and slip in."
 
As she spoke¹² Naomi went round to the gun-rack, took down the Winchester repeating-rifle, loaded it and came back to the front of the store. Then she directed Engelhardt to unlock the door, she helping¹³ him to be gentle with the key. The lock was let back by degrees. A moment later the door was wide open, with Naomi standing¹⁴ as in a frame, the Winchester in her hands.
 
The station-yard lay bathed and purified in the sweet moonlight. The well-palings opposite, and the barracks beyond, were as though newly painted white. The main building Naomi could not see without putting out her head, for it ran at right angles with the store, and she was standing well inside. But the night wind that blew freshly in her face bore upon it the noise of oaths and laughter from the dining-room, and presently that of footsteps, too. At this Naomi laid a finger on the trigger and stood like a rock, with the piano-tuner, like its shadow, at her side. But it was only Mrs. Potter who stepped into the moonlight. So far all was as Naomi had hoped and calculated.
 
But no further. When the poor soul saw the open door she stopped dead, hesitated half a second, and then ran like a heavy doe for it and Naomi. The latter had made adverse¹⁵ signals in vain. She drew aside to let the woman in, and was also in time to prevent Engelhardt from slamming the door. She shut it gently, turned the key with as much care as before, and with a sternly whispered "hush¹⁶!" kept still to listen. The other two stood as silent, though Mrs. Potter, in the moment of safety and of reaction, was heaving and quivering all over, shedding tears like rain, and swaying perilously¹⁷ where she stood. But she kept her feet bravely during that critical minute; it was but one; the next, a shout of laughter from the distance made it clear that by a miracle the incident had passed unobserved and unsuspected.
 
"We may think ourselves lucky," said Naomi, severely¹⁸. Next moment she had thrown her arms round the old woman's neck, and was covering her honest wrinkled face with her tears and kisses.
 
The practical Engelhardt was busily engaged in replacing the props¹⁹ against the door. His one hand made him slow at the work. Naomi was herself again in time to help him, and now there was sturdy Mrs. Potter to lend her weight. The supports were soon firmer than ever, with gimlets and bradawls driven into the door above those at the greatest slant²⁰, which were thus in most danger of being forced out of place. Then came a minute's breathing-space.
 
"I had just got through the first gate," Mrs. Potter was saying, "when I heard a galloping²², and they were on me. Nay²³, Miss Naomi, it isn't anything to be proud of. I just said the first things that came into my head about you both; there was no time to think. It's only a mercy it's turned out so well."
 
"It was presence of mind," said Naomi. "We have scored an hour through it, and may another if they are long in missing you. If we can hold out till morning, someone may ride in from the shed. Don't you hear them talking still?"
 
"Yes; they're more patient than I thought they'd be."
 
"They think you're busy in the kitchen. When they find you're not, they'll waste their time looking all over the place for you—everywhere but here."
 
"Ay, but they'll come here in the end, and then may the Lord have mercy on our souls!"
 
"Come, come. They're not going to get in as easily as all that. And if they do, what with the Winchester——"
 
"Hush!" said Engelhardt. He was kneeling among the props, with his ear close to the bottom of the door.
 
All three listened. The voices were louder and more distinct. The men had come outside.
 
"I don't believe she's there at all," said one. "I see no light."
 
"Go you and have a look, Bo's'n. Prick²⁴ the old squaw up with the p'int o' your knife. But if you find her trying to hide, or up to any o' them games, I'd slit²⁵ her throat and save the barney."
 
"By cripes, so would I!"
 
"Ay, ay, messmates, but we'll see—we'll see."
 
All the voices were nearer now. Naomi had taken Mrs. Potter's hand, and was squeezing it white. For some moments they could make out nothing more. Bo's'n had evidently gone over to the kitchen. The other two were talking in low tones somewhere near the well-palings. Suddenly a muffled²⁶ shout from the kitchen reached every ear.
 
"She's not here at all."
 
"Not there!"
 
"Come and look for yourselves."
 
"By gock," cried Bill, "let me just get my grip on her fat neck!"
 
A moment later the three could be heard ransacking²⁷ the kitchen, and calling upon the fugitive²⁸ to come out, with threats and imprecations most horrible to hear even in the distance; but as they drew nearer, working swiftly from out-building to out-building, like ferrets in a rabbit-warren, the ferocity of their language rose to such a pitch that the hunted woman within fell back faint and trembling upon the counter. Naomi was quick as thought with the flask²⁹; but her own cool hand and steady eyes were as useful as the brandy, and the fit passed as swiftly as it had come. While it lasted, however, the only one to follow every move outside was the assiduous Engelhardt. He had not yet risen from his knees; but he raised himself a little as Mrs. Potter stood upright again, supported by Naomi.
 
"It's all right," he whispered. "They've no idea where you are. Simons has had a look in the barracks, and Bo's'n in the pines. But they've given you up now. They're holding a council of war within five yards of us!"
 
"Let's listen," said Naomi. "Their language won't kill us."
 
They had quite given up Mrs. Potter. This was evident from the tail-end of a speech in which Bill bitterly repented³⁰ not having "stiffened³¹" both her and Engelhardt at sight.
 
"As for getting to the shed," said Simons, who was the obvious authority on this point, "that'll take her a good hour and a half on foot. It'd be a waste of time and trouble to ride after her, though I'd like to see Bill at work on her—I should so! If she had her horse, it'd be another thing."
 
"Ay, ay," cried the Bo's'n. "Let the old gal²¹ rip."
 
Bill had been of the same opinion a moment before; but this indecent readiness to be beaten by an old woman was more than he could share or bear. He told his mate so in highly abusive terms. They retorted that he was beaten by that same old woman himself. Bill was not so sure of that; what about the bedroom with the boots outside? Nobody had looked in there.
 
A brisk debate ensued, in which the voice of Simons rose loudest. Bill, on the other hand, spoke in a much lower tone than usual; his words did not penetrate³² into the store; it was as though they were meant not to. And yet it was Bill who presently cried aloud:
 
"Then that's agreed. We all three go together to rouse her up anyhow, whether the old gal's there or whether she isn't. Come on!"
 
Apparently³³ they went then and there.
 
"Nice for me!" whispered Naomi. "Nice for us both, Mrs. Potter, if we weren't safe——"
 
A bovine³⁴ roar seemed to burst from their very midst. It was Bill outside the door.
 
"Tricked 'em, by God!" he yelled. "Here they are. Never mind that room. I tell you they're here—both of 'em; I heard 'em whispering."
 
"Bill, you're a treat," said the Bo's'n, running up. "I never saw such a man——"
 
"Where's Simons?"
 
"He was bound to have a look for hisself. Here he comes. Well, messmate, where is she?"
 
"Not there," cried Simons, with an oath. "The room's as empty as we are. There's been no one in it all night."
 
Bill laughed.
 
"I knew that, matey. You might have saved yourself the trouble when I sang out. She's—in—here." And he kicked the store door three times with all his might.
 
"Who is?" said Simons.
 
"Both on 'em. What did I tell you? They started whisperin' the moment they thought we'd sheered off."
 
"They're not whisperin' now," said Simons, at the keyhole. "By cripes, let's burst the door in!"
 
"Hold on," said Bill. "If they're not born fools they'll listen to reason. Out o' the light, matey. See here, ladies, if you walk out now you may live to spin the yarn³⁵, but if you don't—" He broke away into nameless blasphemies³⁶.
 
The cruel voice came hoarse³⁷ and hot through the keyhole. Engelhardt opened his mouth to reply, but Naomi clapped a warm palm upon it, and with the other hand signalled silence to Mrs. Potter.
 
"We've given 'em their chance," said Bill, after a pause. "Come on, chaps. One, two, all together—now!"
 
There was a stampede of feet in the shallow veranda, and then a thud and a crash, as the three men hurled³⁸ themselves against the door. But for their oaths outside, in the store it was as though nothing had happened. Not a timber had given, not a prop was out of place. Naomi's white face wore a smile, which, however, was instantly struck out by a loud report and a flash through the keyhole.
 
Engelhardt crouched³⁹ lower, picked something from the floor, and passed it up to Naomi in his open hand.
 
She carried it into the moonlight. It was a wisp of the musician's long hair, snipped⁴⁰ out by the bullet.
 
They stood aside from the keyhole. More bullets came through, but all at the same angle. The women caught up a sack of flour, rolled it over the counte............