d to rise up against her
and make her unclean; he would have sworn that moment, if put to the
test, that she was innocent of any knowing attempt to involve him to his
disgrace. The gate of the world stood open to them to go away from that
harsh land and forget all that had gone before, as the gate of his heart
was open for all the love that it contained to rush out and embrace her,
and purge her of the unfortunate accident of her birth.
After this, poor child, she would need a friend, as never before, with
only her step-mother, as she had told him, in the world to befriend her.
A man's hand, a man's heart----
"I'll take the front door," said the sheriff. "You watch the back."
Lambert came out of his softening dream, down to the hard facts in the
case before him with a jolt. They were within half a mile of the house,
approaching it from the front. He saw that it was built in the shape of
an L, the base of the letter to the left of them, shutting off a view
of the angle.
"He may see us in time to duck," the sheriff said, "and you can bank on
it he's got a horse saddled around there at the back door. If he comes
your way, don't fool with him; let him have it where he lives."
They had not closed up half the distance between them and the house when
two horsemen rode suddenly round the corner of the L and through the
wide gate in the picket fence. Outside the fence they separated with the
suddenness of a preconcerted plan, darting away in opposite directions.
Each wore a white hat, and from that distance they appeared as much
alike in size and bearing as a man and his reflection.
The sheriff swore a surprised oath at sight of them, and their cunning
plan to confuse and divide the pursuing force.
"Which one of 'em's Kerr?" he shouted as he leaned in his saddle, urging
his horse on for all that it could do.
"I don't know," Lambert returned.
"I'll chance this one," said the sheriff, pointing. "Take the other
feller."
Lambert knew that one of them was Grace Kerr. That he could not tell
which, he upbraided himself, not willing that she should be subjected to
the indignity of pursuit. It was a clever trick, but the preparation for
it and the readiness with which it was put into play seemed to reflect a
doubt of her entire innocence in her father's dishonest transactions.
Still, it was no more than natural that she should bend every faculty to
the assistance of her father in escaping the penalty of his crimes. H
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