CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. He knew not what to say, or what to do; and his confusion was increased by the threatening gestures and furious looks of the ruffians in his immediate vicinity. "So you did," replied the prize-fighter. And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out.
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