vement and whipped his
hands about his shoulders to drive away the chilliness which he found
creeping on.

He heard her footsteps first, then saw her emerge from the gloom, and
finally saw her stop as if to listen. He also listened very intently,
and thought he heard somebody moving about the house; and was
immediately satisfied of the correctness of his hearing by noticing that
Mrs. Winslow suddenly turned towards the road and made remarkably good
time to the gate, which, feeling sure of trouble, he made strenuous
efforts to open.

"For heaven's sake, Bristol," she gasped, "why _don't_ you open this
gate. I'll be eaten up with the dogs, and we'll both be caught!"

The last clause of Mrs. Winslow's remark roused Bristol to a vigorous
exercise of his muscle. He tugged away at the gate, shook it, threw
himself against it from one side, and his companion threw herself
against it from the other side; but all in vain. Not a moment was to be
lost. Lights were seen flashing to and fro in the great mansion, angry
voices came to them, with the by nowise cheering short, gruff, savage
responses of loosened bulldogs, and in a moment more the front door was
passed by two men and as many dogs that came dashing out in full
pursuit.

Matters at the gate were approaching a crisis. The gate could not be
opened, and Mrs. Winslow must pass it or get captured.

"Climb or die!" urged Bristol, reaching through the pickets of the
gate, which was a high one, and lifting on the portly form of the
excited woman.

"I will, Bristol!" she returned, with a gasp.

And she did climb!

[Illustration: _"And she did climb!"--_]

It was best that she did so, as a good deal of trouble was coming down
that brick walk like a small hurricane, and it would logically strike
her in a position and from a direction that would not enable her to
respond; and if either or both of those dogs had been able to have
grasped the situation, partially impaled as she was upon the pickets,
the fascinating Mrs. Winslow would have fallen an easy prey.

She was very clumsy about it, but in her desperation she in some way
managed to scale the gate, leaving a good portion of her skirts and
dress flying signals of distress upon the pickets, and finally fell into
Bristol's arms. It was a moment when silk and fine raiment were as
bagatelle in the estimate of chances for escape, and it was but the work
of an instant for Bristol to tear her like a ship from her fastenings