ted. When the party reached the road, they reined up
their horses; and De Banyan, without losing a moment, dismounted,
fastened Jenny to a post in the yard, and ran down to intercept the
troopers. The captain walked with the quick, sharp, consequential tramp
of a military commander; and, when the soldiers saw him, they
involuntarily saluted him.

"What are you doing up here?" he demanded in tones of authority.

"We are looking for the prisoners that runned away," replied a corporal.

"Well, do you expect to find them in the dwelling-house of Dr. Scoville?
Ride down the road as fast as you can, and turn to the first left. If you
meet the major, report Captain Sheffield badly wounded--shot by one of
the prisoners."

"Then the prisoners have gone down this way?"

"Certainly they have. Off with you as fast as you can!"

The corporal saluted, wheeled his horse, and dashed off, followed by the
rest of the party. De Banyan wiped away the cold sweat from his brow, and
returned to his suffering companion. He helped him to dismount and seated
him on a block while he secured the horse. By this time, a couple of
negro women came out of the house. They were the early risers of the
family, and at once manifested the most abundant sympathy for the
sufferer. The doors of the house were thrown wide open to him; and
Captain de Banyan, supporting Somers, followed the servants into the
sitting-room, where the patient was laid upon the sofa in a fainting
condition.

"Now call your master," said De Banyan, with as much assurance as though
he had been the lord of the manor.

"Yes, massa," replied one of the women as she hastened to obey the order.

"How do you feel, my dear boy?" said De Banyan, bending over his charge.

But Somers was past answering. He had fainted from loss of blood and the
agony of his wound. The resolute captain did not wait for Dr. Scoville in
this emergency; but, taking a bottle of cologne from the mantel, he
applied himself with skill and vigor to the restoration of his patient.
While he was thus engaged, the doctor made his appearance. He was a man
of fifty, of forbidding aspect and rough exterior.

"Who are you, sir?" demanded he in brusk tones, placing himself in front
of the captain, and without bestowing more than a glance at the patient
on the sofa.

"Captain Sheffield," replied De Banyan as sharply as the question had
been put.

"Are you, indeed? Then you have altered a great deal since I saw you