ol the weakness, and, failing in both,
strives to turn away. All to no purpose. An arm in a sling is of
little avail at such a moment. Whirling quickly about, Drummond brings
his other into action. Before the weeping little maid is well aware
what is happening her waist is encircled by the strong arm in the
dark-blue sleeve, and how can she see that she is drawn to his breast,
since now her face is buried in both her hands and those hands in the
flannel of his hunting-shirt,--just as high as his heart? Small wonder
is it that Corporal Costigan, hurrying in at the mouth of the cave,
stops short at sight of this picturesque _partie carree_. Any other
time he would have sense enough to face about and tiptoe whence he
came, but now there's no room left for sentiment. _Tableaux-vivants_
are lovely in their way, even in a cave lighted dimly by a
hurricane-lamp, but sterner scenes are on the curtain. Drummond's
voice is murmuring soothing, yes, caressing words to his sobbing
captive. Drummond's bearded lips, unrebuked, are actually pressing a
kiss upon that childish brow when Costigan, with a preliminary
clearing of his throat that sounds like a landslide and makes the rock
walls ring again, startles Ruth from her blissful woe and brings
Drummond leaping to the mouth of the cave.

"Lieutenant, there's something coming out over our trail."

"Thank God!" sighs Wing, as he raises his eyes to those of his fair
nurse. "Thank God! for your sakes!"

"Thank God, Ruth!" cries Fanny, extending one hand to her sister while
the other is unaccountably detained. "Thank God! it's father and the
Stoneman party and Doctor Gray."

And Ruth, throwing herself upon her knees by her sister's side, buries
her head upon her shoulder and sobs anew for very joy.

And then comes sudden start. All in an instant there rings, echoing
down the canon, the sharp, spiteful crack of rifles, answered by
shrieks of terror from the cave where lie the Moreno women, and by
other shots out along the range. Three faces blanch with sudden fear,
though Wing looks instantly up to say,--

"They can't harm you, and our men will be here in less than no time."

Out in the gorge men are springing to their feet and seizing their
ready arms; horses are snorting and stamping; mules braying in wild
terror. Two of the ambulance mules, breaking loose from their
fastenings, come charging down the resounding rock, nearly
annihilating Moreno, who, bound and helpless, praying a