"Peter, I was wrong. God wasn't wicked to let Mister Roger kill Jed Hawkins. He oughta been killed. An' God meant him to be killed. Peter--Peter--we don't care if he's an outlaw! We're goin' with him. We're goin'--goin'--"
She sprang to the window, and Peter was at her heels as she strained at it with all her strength, and he could hear her sobbing:
"We're goin' with him, Peter. We're goin'--if we die for it!"
An inch at a time she pried the window up. The storm beat in. A gust of wind blew out the light, but in the last flare of it Nada saw a knife in an Eskimo sheath hanging on the wall. She groped for it, and clutched it in her hand as she climbed through the window and dropped to the soggy ground beneath. In a single leap Peter followed her. Blackness swallowed them as they turned t
