Suddenly the two, still at a gallop, rose upon the crest of the hill.

Jeb and her Uncle Zeke! Her vision cleared, her nerve steadied.
They did not draw rein until they were at the road gate of the little house.

The woman rose, put down her knitting in the seat of her stiff, rush-bottomed rocker, advanced to the fence.

The air was still, but Susan could not hear a sound, though she craned forward and strained her ears to the uttermost.

She shrank as if she had been struck when the three began to gaze up at the rock--to gaze, it seemed to her, at the very spot where she was standing.