It was not the “night hawk.” The sound was different. It was a boat. She could not see through the trees what sort of a boat it was that was landing, and waited, all ready to whisk upstairs to the attic and lock herself in, or to slip out the back way and hide in the woods, if she could reach them without being seen. The sheltering vines of the little vineyard on the hillside were not so far away. Like a little Indian maid she might perhaps slip from covert to covert.
But all this planning was unnecessary. To Betty’s great relief, she saw marines running rapidly across the way from the picnic grounds and up the ascent toward the house. But their guns were ready for action, and Betty drew back from the window, undecided just how to let them know she was there. In a moment the house was surrounded and a loud voice called, “Open the door and surrender!” Another voice which she recognized immediately called, “Betty! Betty! Are you there?”
“Oh, Donald,” she answered. “Yes, I’m here all alone. Tell them not to shoot!”
Betty hastened to unbolt and unlock the front door and greeted with smiles of joy the tall captain, who stood there, and Donald, close behind.
“This is Captain Stone, Betty,” said Donald as the captain stood aside waving Donald toward the pale little lady who leaned against the doorway, for Betty was not altogether steady on her feet as yet.
“I surrender, Captain Stone,” said she, with a smile.
“I thought that there might be some of the miscreants left,” said the captain, returning her smile. “But I prefer to find you this time.”
“No, there does not seem to be a soul here, though I was a little afraid to go down to the barn. The poor stock is in need of being fed, I think.”
“I’ll set some of my lads to work,” replied Captain Stone, and turning, he gave a few orders and disappeared around the corner of the house.
“Are you all right, Betty?” asked Donald anxiously. “You must not stand here,—come in and sit down and tell me what happened to you.”
“Yes, I will. You look pretty tired yourself, and I imagine that you have some things to tell, too. My, but I’m glad you came. I was just wondering what I should do!”
“Not until it was found. The bridle got caught in some branches, a sort of Absalom affair, you know. We did not know what had happened to you, of course, though the men thought that they could tell by the hoof marks that the horse got frightened and bolted. You see we were after the men in this affair and ran into the men that were hunting you.”