ing on end.

CHAPTER XVIII

The Men in the Sleigh

Let us go back to the night on which Rosalie was seized and carried away
from Mrs. Luce's front gate, despite the valiant resistance of her
youthful defenders.

Rosalie had drooned Thackeray to the old lady until both of them were
dozing, and it was indeed a welcome relief that came with Roscoe's
resounding thumps on the front door. Mrs. Luce was too old to be
frightened out of a year's growth, but it is perfectly safe to agree
with her that the noise cost her at least three months.

Desperately blue over the defection of Elsie Banks, Rosalie had found
little to make her evening cheerful indoors, but the fresh, crisp air
set her spirits bounding the instant she closed Mrs. Luce's door from
the outside. We have only to refer to Roscoe's lively narrative for
proof of what followed almost instantly. She was seized, her head
tightly wrapped in a thick cloak or blanket; then she was thrown into a
sleigh, and knew nothing more except a smothering sensation and the
odour of chloroform.

When she regained consciousness she was lying on the ground in the open
air, dark night about her. Three men were standing nearby, but there was
no vehicle in sight. She tried to rise, but on account of her bonds was
powerless to do so. Speech was prevented by the cloth which closed her
lips tightly. After a time she began to grasp the meaning of the
muttered words that passed between the men.

"You got the rig in all right, Bill--you're sure that no one heard or
saw you?" were the first questions she could make out, evidently arising
from a previous report or explanation.

"Sure. Everybody in these parts goes to bed at sundown. They ain't got
nothing to do but sleep up 'ere."

"Nobody knows we had that feller's sleigh an' horses out--nobody ever
will know," said the big man, evidently the leader. She noticed they
called him Sam.

"Next thing is to git her across the river without leavin' any tracks.
We ain't on a travelled road now, pals; we got to be careful. I'll carry
her down to the bank; but be sure to step squarely in my
footprints--it'll look like they were made by one man. See?"

"The river's froze over an' we can't be tracked on the ice. It's too
dark, too, for any one to see us. Go ahead, Sammy; it's d---- cold
here."

The big man lifted her from the ground as if she were a feather, and she
was conscious of being borne swiftly through a stretch of sloping
woo