As it was, Dorothy,
save for the fright, was little the worse for the rough
handling she had received, so they resolved to proceed
on their way in about an hour's time, when certain
necessary duties had been fulfilled.
Before the ruddy sun began to go down behind the
pine-crested bluffs and far-stretching sea of white-robed
prairie in a fairy cloudland of crimson and gold and
keenest blue, the horses were hitched up into the sleighs,
and the fugitives were bowling merrily up the valley so
as to strike the main trail before nightfall.
CHAPTER XVI
THE FATE OF SERGEANT PASMORE
When Sergeant Pasmore was left in the dug-out, or, to
explain more fully, the hut built into the side of a
hill, he sat down in the semi-darkness and calmly reviewed
the situation. It was plain enough.
He was a prisoner, and would be shot within twelve hours;
but Douglas and Dorothy were probably now safe, and well
on their way to friends. This, at least, was a comforting
reflection.
He heard the talking of the breeds at the door; then he
saw it open, and one looked in upon him with his rifle
resting upon his chest. These were two of the sober crowd.
There was no getting away from them. The leaders of the
rebels probably by this time knew they had a prisoner,
and if he were not forthcoming when they were asked to
produce him, the lives of his gaolers would more than
likely pay the penalty. True, for Katie's sake they had
made an exchange, but that did not matter--no one would
know.
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