companion's horse were clattering,--the tart
rejoinders of his navy-six.

"Go!" he cried again. "Lay low! lay low! cover the child!" But his words
were needless. With head bowed forward and form crouched over the
crying, clinging child, with slackened rein and fluttering dress, and
sun-bonnet and loosened hair blown back upon her shoulders, with lips
compressed and silent prayers, Mary was riding for life and liberty and
her husband's bedside.

"O mamma! mamma!" wailed the terrified little one.

"Go on! Go on!" cried the voice behind; "they're saddling--up! Go! go!
We're goin' to make it. We're goin' to _make_ it! Go-o-o!"

Half an hour later they were again riding abreast, at a moderate gallop.
Alice's cries had been quieted, but she still clung to her mother in a
great tremor. Mary and her companion conversed earnestly in the subdued
tone that had become their habit.

"No, I don't think they followed us fur," said the spy. "Seem like
they's jess some scouts, most likely a-comin' in to report, feelin'
pooty safe and sort o' takin' it easy and careless; 'dreamin' the happy
hours away,' as the felleh says. I reckon they sort o' believed my
story, too, the little gal yelled so sort o' skilful. We kin slack up
some more now; we want to get our critters lookin' cool and quiet ag'in
as quick as we kin, befo' we meet up with somebody." They reined into a
gentle trot. He drew his revolver, whose emptied chambers he had already
refilled. "D'd you hear this little felleh sing, 'Listen to the
mockin'-bird'?"

"Yes," said Mary; "but I hope it didn't hit any of them."

He made no reply.

"Don't you?" she asked.

He grinned.

"D'you want a felleh to wish he was a bad shot?"

"Yes," said Mary, smiling.

"Well, seein' as you're along, I do. For they wouldn't give us up so
easy if I'd a hit one. Oh,--mine was only sort o' complimentary
shots,--much as to say, 'Same to you, gents,' as the felleh says."

Mary gave him a pleasant glance by way of courtesy, but was busy calming
the child. The man let his weapon into its holster under his homespun
coat and lapsed into silence. He looked long and steadily at the small
feminine figure of his companion. His eyes passed slowly from the knee
thrown over the saddle's horn to the gentle forehead slightly bowed, as
her face sank to meet the uplifted kisses of the trembling child, then
over the crown and down the heavy, loosened tresses that hid the
sun-bonnet hanging back from her