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Updated: June 27, 2025
They searched the cellar, the outhouses, and the barn, but encountered only the inquiring glances of the horses and cattle. Then they searched the house anew, hoping to find proof of the guilt of Matalette and his family; but, excepting holes in the floor of a vacant room, they found nothing which might not be expected in a comfortable home.
The young preacher recovered himself, and replied, briefly: "Your soul." Matalette winced, and, in a weak voice, asked: "Anything else?" Crewne looked toward Helen; Helen blushed, and looked a little frightened; Crewne blushed, too, and seemed to be clearing his throat; then, with a mighty effort, he said: "Yes Helen."
And when, after offering a prayer with the family, Crewne followed Matalette to a chamber to rest, Helen bade him good-night with a bright smile which mixed itself up inextricably with his private devotions, his thoughts and his plans for forthcoming sermons, and seriously curtailed his night's rest in addition.
Then Matalette, learning that the young man was traveling his circuit on foot, insisted on lending him a horse, and on giving him money with which to purchase one.
"Nell's right if we're not tracked and caught, I'll never be sorry that we sunk the accursed business for ever. And, considering our narrow escape, and how it happened, I don't think we're very gentlemanly to sit here bemoaning our luck. Mr. Crewne," continued Matalette, crossing to the yellow-haired figure in front of the fire, "you've saved me what can I give you?"
Each of the hired men hastily clicked something under the table, while Helen turned pale, but quickly drew a small stiletto from a fold of her dress. "Ready?" asked Matalette, in a low tone, as he took a candle from the table, and placed his unoccupied hand in his pocket. "Yes," whispered each of the men, while Helen nodded. "Who's there?" shouted Matalette, approaching the outer door.
As the figure disappeared within the mass, three bearded men, dressed like emigrants, looked up furtively, one yellow-haired man stared vacantly and sadly into the fire which illumed the cabin of the little trading boat, while Helen Matalette sprang forward and threw her arms about the figure's neck. "It's all gone, Nell," said the man.
Suddenly some one thought of the boats which Matalette kept at the mouth of the creek, and a detachment, headed by the sheriff, went hastily down to examine them. The boats were gone not even the tiniest canoe or most dilapidated skiff remained.
"And you have been providentially deferred from committing a great crime!" exclaimed Crewne, with a reproving look. "Mr. Matalette took me in last night, wet, cold, and footsore; this morning I departed, refreshed, clothed and mounted. To rob a man who is so lavish of " "Beg your pardon, parson," interrupted one of the men, "but you haven't got the right pig by the ear. We're not highwaymen.
Crewne mechanically put his hands in his pocket and drew forth the money Matalette had given him to buy a horse with. The sheriff snatched it. "That's some of his stock?" said he, looking it rapidly over. That seems good enough." "What will become of his poor daughter?" ejaculated the young preacher, with a vacant look. "What, Helen?" queried the sheriff.
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