know better; that is not like a Mortimer. But I cannot search for
him; I must stay with my father. But if I can only be assured you will
come."

"You can be assured."

"Mistress Claire," broke in Peter, "some one is riding up the road."

"Yes, Peter, yes. Major, wait here! Don't move. We will go back and meet
him."

I held my horse steady, although he made an effort to follow. Voices came
back to me through the darkness,--Grant's loud enough to be clearly
heard.

"What, is this you, Claire?" he laughed gruffly. "By all the gods, I
thought it must be Eric. I never expected to find you togged out in this
style. By Jove, I could wish it was daylight."

Whatever she replied must have sobered the fellow.

"Everything I say you take wrongly. Of course it's all right, for the
country is full of stragglers out of both armies. Lord, I don't care what
you wear, as long as it suits you. My business? Oh, I explained all that
to your putty-faced servant--Saint Anne! that fellow! But I'll review the
matter again. I'm drumming up Clinton's deserters, but now I've met you,
I'm tempted to go along with you as far as Elmhurst."

"Become a deserter yourself?"

"Oh, no, or at least only temporarily. There will be plenty of fighting
yet in the Jerseys. Clinton's whipped all right, and is going to have a
time getting away to the ships. In my judgment there will be richer
picking for a Jerseyman right here at home, than with the army in New
York."

There was a moment's silence; then the girl asked, a shade of horror in
her voice:

"Surely you cannot mean to ally yourself with guerillas, Captain Grant?
With--with Fagin?"

The man laughed, but mirthlessly.

"That would be horrible, wouldn't it? Well, personally I fail to see why
Fagin is any more of a scoundrel than some of these other fellows in gilt
epaulets. However, I've not come to that point yet. The fact is I have a
private affair to attend to before I leave this neighborhood. Can you
guess what it is?"

"I? Certainly not."

"Well, you will know shortly--the ambulance is coming."

I rode my horse slowly forward, keeping at the edge of the road, until
assured a sufficient distance separated us. Then I gave the restive
animal a sharp touch of the spur, sending him swiftly forward. My escort
would have a mile or two the start, yet that was nothing. My thoughts
were not with them, or with my military duty, but reverted to the little
company around the wounded man. The b