I,
myself, expect to feed and bed the horses."
Deliberately he went about the task of feeding the horses. The two on
the beam looked on in helpless silence. Crosby had murder in his heart.
At last the master of the situation started for the door.
"Good-night," he said sarcastically. "Pleasant dreams."
"You brute," cried Crosby, hoarse with anger. A sob came from his tired
companion and Crosby turned to her, his heart full of tenderness and--
shame, perhaps. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her shoulders
drooped dejectedly.
"What shall we do?" she moaned. Crosby could frame no answer. He gently
took her hand in his and held it tightly. She made no effort to withdraw
it.
"I'm awfully sorry," he said softly. "Don't cry, little woman. It will
all end right, I know."
Just then Austin reentered the barn. Without a word he strode over and
emptied a pan of raw meat on the floor in front of the dog. Then he
calmly departed, but Crosby could have sworn he heard him chuckle. The
captives looked at each other dumbly for a full minute, one with wet,
wide-open, hurt eyes, the other with consternation.
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