ted. Say
it out, plainly, pup; what is it dog--what is it?"

The venerable hound had risen, and was scenting the fresh breeze which
continued to sweep heavily over the prairie. At the words of his master
he growled and contracted the muscles of his lips, as if half disposed
to threaten with the remnants of his teeth. The younger dog, who was
resting after the chase of the morning, also made some signs that
his nose detected a taint in the air, and then the two resumed their
slumbers, as if they had done enough.

The trapper seized the bridle of the ass, and cried, urging the beast
onward--

"There is no time for words. The squatter and his brood are within a
mile or two of this blessed spot!"

Middleton lost all recollection of Ellen, in the danger which now so
eminently beset his recovered bride; nor is it necessary to add,
that Dr. Battius did not wait for a second admonition to commence his
retreat.

Following the route indicated by the old man, they turned the rock in
a body, and pursued their way as fast as possible across the prairie,
under the favour of the cover it afforded.

Paul Hover, however, remained in his tracks, sullenly leaning on his
rifle. Near a minute had elapsed before he was observed by Ellen, who
had buried her face in her hands, to conceal her fancied desolation from
herself.

"Why do you not fly?" the weeping girl exclaimed, the instant she
perceived she was not alone.

"I'm not used to it."

"My uncle will soon be here! you have nothing to hope from his pity."

"Nor from that of his niece, I reckon. Let him come; he can only knock
me on the head!"

"Paul, Paul, if you love me, fly."

"Alone!--if I do, may I be--"

"If you value your life, fly!"

"I value it not, compared to you."

"Paul!"

"Ellen!"

She extended both her hands and burst into another and a still more
violent flood of tears. The bee-hunter put one of his sturdy arms around
her waist, and in another moment he was urging her over the plain, in
rapid pursuit of their flying friends.

CHAPTER XVII

Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon--Do not bid me speak;
See, and then speak yourselves.
--Shakspeare.

The little run, which supplied the family of the squatter with water,
and nourished the trees and bushes that grew near the base of the rocky
eminence, took its rise at no great distan