en more intensely afraid to again meet her without knowing.
He had evidently fallen upon his shoulder, and still lay in a huddled
heap. I had to straighten out his form before I was able to decide
whether he was living or dead. I bent down, undoing his jacket, and
placed my ear to his heart. It beat plainly enough, almost
regularly--the man was alive; I doubted if he were even seriously
injured. This discovery was such a relief that I muttered a "Thank God,"
and began rubbing his chest as though in effort to restore the fellow to
consciousness. Then my senses came back, my realization of the
situation. Let Le Gaire lie where he was; others would take care of him
soon enough. I must get away; I could use his horse, pretend to be him,
if necessary, and before daylight be safely across the river. I sought
along the ground until I found the dropped revolver, thrust it into my
belt, and ran over to where the horse was tied.

I had loosened the rein, my hand on the pommel, when the thought came
that I must tell her first before I rode away. Even though the delay was
a risk to us both, yet she must understand the truth, be informed of Le
Gaire's condition, and why I had attacked him. At the instant this last
seemed more important than all else. It would require but a moment, and
then I could go, confident the man's injury would be no additional
barrier between us, would never cause her to suspect that I had attacked
him wantonly, actuated by personal motives. He might try to make her
think so, if he were the kind I believed, his mind already suspicious of
her interest in me. Her very sympathy for his wounds would make her
easily influenced; this natural sympathy must not be inflamed by doubt
of my motives and the thought that I had deliberately sought the man's
life. It may have been two rods between the fence and the grape arbor,
and I called to her softly.

CHAPTER XIV

ACROSS THE RIVER

She came toward me swiftly, slipping through the night like a shadow,
instantly recognizing my voice.

"You--you are not hurt, Lieutenant Galesworth?" she asked, her voice
trembling.

"No; merely bruised, and shaken up--the horse did that."

"Oh; was it you who had that struggle with the horse? I--I thought he
would surely kill the man."

"The poor fellow was frightened," and I stroked his neck softly, "and
certainly gave me a hard tussle. But that's all over now. I want to
explain what has happened before I leave."

"Yes."