"Come on," he snarled. Against the gay pattern, his
handsome pirate face shone brown and evil in the lamplight. "Damn you,
I've waited long enough for your whims. Stay there and be killed, then."
He ran to the stairs, and down. The woman's arms began to drag loosely,
as if she were slipping to the floor; then suddenly, with a cry, she
turned and bolted. Run as he might, Rudolph did not overtake her till
she had caught Chantel at the gate. All three, silent, sped across
fields toward the river, through the startling shadows and dim orange
glow from distant flames.
The rough ground sloped, at last, and sent them stumbling down into mud.
Behind them the bank ran black and ragged against the glow; before them,
still more black, lay the river, placid, mysterious, and safe. Through
the mud they labored heavily toward a little, smoky light--a lantern
gleaming faintly on a polished gunwale, the shoulders of a man, and the
thin, slant line that was his pole.
"Lowdah?" called Chantel; and the shoulders moved, the line shifted, as
the boatman answered. Chantel pitched the bundle over the lantern, and
leapt on board.
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