CHAPTER IX.
A SUMMONS AND A REPLY.
Brother and sister were astounded.

The hour was late, and they had been urging their guest to remain several days with them.

He had not consented, nor had he refused, from which they were confident he would stay.
And now he announced his intention of departing at once, riding out into the night--whither?
They protested, but he replied so earnestly that an urgent necessity existed that they refrained.

He gave no hint of the reason for his strange action, and they could not ask it.

His fleet mare, which had been allowed to graze on the succulent grass at the rear of the building with the other horses, was brought forward and saddled and bridled, and he quickly vaulted upon her back.
"Remember me to your mother; it is not worth while to disturb her; I hope soon to be with you again." He leaned over and pressed the hand of Fred Whitney, and then, raising his hat with his left hand, extended the right to Jennie.
Fred made an excuse to move away a few paces, for he understood the situation.
"Good-by," Sterry said in a voice just low enough to reach the dear one, as he pressed the delicate hand which rested so trustingly in his own.
"Good-by," she answered.