knoll amid a grove of trees, with a view of the distant bay,
or creek, or river, as the case might be; the cluster of houses, the
quarters for the slaves, the stables and the barns, making little
villages and hamlets amid the wide expanse of farm lands and the
distant circle of the dark green forests.

Then, again, a creek or river would bar our course, and we would have
to ride for miles until we turned its head, or found a ferry or a
ford, and so overcome its opposition. So on we rode until, as the day
waxed near the noon hour, we came to the little hamlet of Georgetown,
nestling amid the hills on the banks of the Sassafras. Crossing the
river at the ferry, we began the last stage of our journey.

The trail now skirted the broad lands of Bohemia Manor, and crossed
the beautiful river of that name, embedded between the hills and
wide-stretching farm lands.

As we approached the banks of the Elk the country grew more rolling
and wilder--in our front the Iron Hills rose up before us, crowned
with forests, in sharp contrast to the low-lying country through which
we had been passing.

And now, as our appetites became pressing, we urged our horses on, for
we had still many miles to travel.

CHAPTER II

WE MEET THE MAID

We had just come in sight of the blue waters of the Elk, as it rolled
between the forest-clad hills on either side, basking here for a
moment in the sunshine, then lost in the deeper shadows of the
overhanging forest.

"There rolls the Elk," cried Dick. "Only ten miles more, and a stroke
upon a piece of paper, and then, my boy, you are done for. A pain that
eats its way ever inward, a thirst that never slackens, and over all
the black night lowering down. Aye, so it is, Sir Monk of the Long
Face; but we will have some fun before we are put under the sod or our
bones are left to whiten on the sands."

"That we will, Sir Richard. And now we are in for it, for here comes
our first adventure. Is she ugly or is she fair? Which, Sir Richard?"

For, as we reached the point where our road joins the river road, we
saw, approaching along the lower road, a gentleman riding on a
powerful horse, while behind him on a pillion sat a slight girlish
figure, hidden in part by the broad shoulders of the rider.

"By Jove, it is Gordon of the Braes," said Dick.

"What, the suspected Tory?"

"Yes; and that must be his daughter. They say she is the fairest lass
in all the county of Cecil."

"Tory or no