rong effort to rally their soldiers, and
succeeded in forming a line of battle. But the Pixies were so
demoralized that the troops broke and fled before the Brownie charges.
Many found hiding places in holes and dens of the earth; some escaped in
the small boats of the smugglers and pirates; numbers were taken aboard
the Stygian ships, and were borne down the lake, closely pursued by the
Natties.

Lieutenant Heady lay dead upon the field. What had become of Spite? When
we last saw him he was sitting alone upon the cliff, filled with rage
and wonder at the Brownie rejoicings over the rescue of Faith and
Sophia, and waiting in the moonlight for the return of the scouts whom
he had sent out to get the news. Not a whisper of tidings could he hear.
Bruce had ordered the Brownie pickets to keep the matter from their
foes, and no breath of the good news could be gathered from them. For
good and sufficient reasons Raft the smuggler had held his knowledge
secret, and had kept away from Spite's presence. His yacht, the Fringe,
was now anchored just under the cliff, hidden from view by the
overhanging grass. Raft had heard for some time the commotion on the
lawn, but gave little heed to it. It drew nearer. The singing swish of
the scythe against the grass, the cheers of the Brownies and Governor
Wille excited his interest. He climbed up the cliff and reconnoitered.
He took in the situation at a glance, then turned his eyes toward the
inlet. Thereaway the Nattie fleet was under way, and bearing down
straight toward the cliff.

"It's all up with Pixiedom!" he cried, "for one good long while at
least. Good-bye to the lawn! I'm off with the Fringe to safe quarters; I
wouldn't lose her to save the whole nation. Every fellow for himself,
and deil take the hindmost! That's good Pixie doctrine, so here's cut
and away!"

He spun out a drag-line, Pixie fashion, and fastening it to a rock,
thereby swung himself down the cliff to the grass at the water's edge.
Thence he boarded the Fringe, set his sail, pulled up anchor, and was
just about leaving the harbor, when a shower of sand and small pebbles
rolled upon him. He looked up, and saw a Pixie officer lowering himself
down the side of the cliff by blades of grass and ferns. The form seemed
familiar; he looked more closely. Yes, it was Spite the Spy.

"Hold on,--hold!" cried Spite.

"Aye, aye!" answered Raft. "This way now--down that tall rush--so! Now
swing upon the mast. There,--you'r