saddle and passed out in safety. Then she spared not the mare for
nigh three miles on the New Salem road. It was ten miles to New
Salem, and it did not take long to reach it, riding a horse who went
at times as if all the fiends were in chase, and often sprang out
like a bow into the wayside bushes, and was off with a new spurt of
vicious terror. It was still far from sundown when Madelon Hautville
tied the roan outside the jail where Burr Gordon lay.

Burr was sitting in his cell, which was nothing but a rough chamber
with whitewashed walls and a grated window. It was furnished with a
bed, a table, and a chair. He had an inkstand and a great sheet of
paper on the table, and he was writing a letter when the bolt shot
and the jailer entered with Madelon Hautville.

Burr looked at her with a white, incredulous face. Then he started up
and came forward, but Madelon did not look at him. She turned to the
jailer, Alvin Mead. "I want to see him alone," said she,
imperatively.

"It's again my orders," said the jailer. He was a great man, with an
arm like a crow-bar. He was reputed to have used it as one many a
time at a house-raising.

"I've got to see him alone!"

"He's in here on a charge of murder, and it's again my orders,"
repeated Alvin Mead, like a parrot.

"I've got to see him alone!"