and plunged.

"Hold on, nigger!" said a rough voice out of the darkness.

"What yo' doin'?" the coachman gasped. "Don' yo' know dis de Belle Plain
carriage? Take yo' han's offen to dem hosses' bits!"

Two men stepped to the side of the carriage.

"Show your light, Bunker," said the same rough voice that had spoken
before. Instantly a hooded lantern was uncovered, and Hannibal uttered
a cry of terror. He was looking into the face of Slosson, the
tavern-keeper.

CHAPTER XXVII. PRISONERS

In the face of Betty's indignant protest Slosson and the man named
Bunker climbed into the carriage.

"Don't you be scared, ma'am," said the tavernkeeper, who smelt strongly
of whisky. "I wouldn't lift my hand ag'in no good looking female except
in kindness."

"How dare you stop my carriage?" cried Betty, with a very genuine anger
which for the moment dominated all her other emotions. She struggled to
her feet, but Slosson put out a heavy hand and thrust her back.

"There now," he urged soothingly. "Why make a fuss? We ain't going to
harm you; we wouldn't for no sum of money. Drive on, Jim--drive like
hell!" This last was addressed to the man who had taken George's place
on the box, where a fourth member of Slosson's band had forced the
coachman down into the narrow space between the seat and dashboard, and
was holding a pistol to his head while he sternly enjoined silence.

With a word to the horses Jim swung about and the carriage rolled off
through the night at a breakneck' pace. Betty's shaking hands drew
Hannibal closer to her side as she felt the surge of her terrors rise
within her. Who were these men--where could they be taking her--and for
what purpose? The events of the past weeks linked themselves in tragic
sequence in her mind.

What was it she had to fear? Was it Tom who had inspired Norton's
murder? Was it Tom for whom these men were acting? Tom who would profit
greatly by her disappearance or death.

They swept past the entrance at Belle Plain, past a break in the wall of
the forest where the pale light of stars showed Betty the corn-field she
and Hannibal had but lately crossed, and then on into pitchy darkness
again. She clung to the desperate hope that they might meet some one on
the road, when she could cry out and give the alarm. She held herself
in readiness for this, but there was only the steady pounding of the big
bays as Jim with voice and whip urged them forward. At last he abruptly
checke