The man, too, felt the witchery of the night.  The horses were crowding more closely together now, and, leaning forward, the girl looked up into his face; “What’s the matter, Matt?  Why don’t you talk to me?  You know it ain’t true what them folks said back there.”

The sorrel was jerked farther away.  “It’s true enough, so far as it touches me,” returned the man shortly.  “When are you goin’ to the city?”

“I don’t know,” she replied.  “Let’s don’t talk about that to-night.  I don’t want even to think about it, not to-night.  You—­you don’t believe what they was a sayin’, Matt; you know you don’t.  You mustn’t ever believe such as that.  I—­I never could get along without you and Aunt Mollie and Uncle Matt, nohow.”  The brown pony was again crowding closer to his mate.  The girl laid a hand on her companion’s arm.  “Say you don’t blame me for what they said, Matt.  You know I wouldn’t do no such a thing even if I could.  There mustn’t anything ever come between you and me; never—­never.  I—­I want us always to be like we are now.  You’ve been so good to me ever since I was a little trick, and you whipped big Lem Wheeler for teasin’ me.  I—­I don’t guess I could get along without knowin’ you was around somewhere.”  She finished with a half sob.

It was almost too much.  The man swung around in his saddle, and the horses, apparently of their own accord, stopped.  Without a word, the big fellow stretched forth his arms, and the girl, as if swept by a force beyond her control, felt herself swaying toward him.

The spell was broken by the trampling of horses and the sound of loud voices.  For a moment they held their places, motionless, as if rudely awakened from a dream.  The sound was coming nearer.  Then Young Matt spoke, “It’s Wash Gibbs and his crowd from the still.  Ride into the brush quick.”

There was no time for flight.  In the bright moonlight, they would have been easily recognized, and a wild chase would have followed.  Leaving the road, they forced their horses into a thick clump of bushes, where they dismounted, to hold the animals by their heads.  Scarcely had they gained this position when the first of the crowd reached the spot where they had been a moment before.  Wash Gibbs was easily distinguished by his gigantic form, and with him were ten others, riding two and two, several of whom were known to Young Matt as the most lawless characters in the country.  All were fired by drink and were laughing and talking, with now and then a burst of song, or a vulgar jest.

“I say, Wash,” called one, “What’ll you do if Young Matt’s there?” The unseen listeners could not hear the leader’s reply; but those about the speaker laughed and shouted with great glee.  Then the two in the bushes distinctly heard the last man in the line ask his companion, “Do you reckon he’ll put up a fight?” and as they passed from sight, the other answered, “Wash don’t aim t’ give him no show.”