haste, comrade;" and Oscar thrust Zmai
back with his finger-tips.

The man yielded and ran a few steps out of the clump of trees and sought
to escape there. It was clear to Oscar that Zmai was not anxious to
penetrate closer to the Claiborne house, whose garden extended quite
near. He met Zmai promptly and again thrust him back.

"It is a message--yes?" asked Oscar.

"It is my affair," blurted the big fellow. "I mean no harm to you."

"It was you that tried the knife on my body. It is much quieter than
shooting. You have the knife--yes?"

The little soldier whipped out his revolver.

"In which pocket is the business carried? A letter undoubtedly. They do
not trust swine to carry words--Ah!"

Oscar dropped below the wall as Zmai struck at him; when he looked up a
moment later the Servian was running back over the meadow toward the
sheepfold. Oscar, angry at the ease with which the Servian had evaded
him, leaped the wall and set off after the big fellow. He was quite sure
that the man bore a written message, and equally sure that it must be of
importance to his employer. He clutched his revolver tight, brought up
his elbows for greater ease in running, and sped after Zmai, now a blur
on the starlighted sheep pasture.

The slope was gradual and a pretty feature of the landscape by day; but
it afforded a toilsome path for runners. Zmai already realized that he
had blundered in not forcing the wall; he was running uphill, with a
group of sheds, another wall, and a still steeper and rougher field
beyond. His bulk told against him; and behind him he heard the quick
thump of Oscar's feet on the turf. The starlight grew dimmer through
tracts of white scud; the surface of the pasture was rougher to the feet
than it appeared to the eye. A hound in the Claiborne stable-yard bayed
suddenly and the sound echoed from the surrounding houses and drifted off
toward the sheepfold. Then a noble music rose from the kennels.

Captain Claiborne, waiting for his sister on the veranda, looked toward
the stables, listening.

Zmai approached the sheep-sheds rapidly, with still a hundred yards to
traverse beyond them before he should reach the pasture wall. His rage at
thus being driven by a small man for whom he had great contempt did not
help his wind or stimulate the flight of his heavy legs, and he saw now
that he would lessen the narrowing margin between himself and his pursuer
if he swerved to the right to clear the sheds. He sudd