is," said Cap, "I'm not witty nor amusing, nor
will it pay to sit out in the night air to hear me talk; but, since you
wish it, and since you were so good as to guard me through these woods,
and since I promised, why, damp as it is, I will even get off and talk
with you."

"That's my birdling!"

"But hold on a minute; is there nothing you can get to put there for me
to sit on--no stump nor dry stone?"

"No, my dear; I don't see any."

"Could you not turn your hat down and let me sit on that?"

"Ha, ha, ha! Why, your weight would crush it as flat as a flounder!"

"Oh, I know now!" exclaimed Capitola, with sudden delight; "you just
spread your saddle-cloth down there, and that will make a beautiful
seat, and I'll sit and talk with you so nicely--only you must not want
me to stay long, because if I don't get home soon I shall catch a
scolding."

"You shall neither catch a scolding nor a cold on my account, pretty
one," said the man, going to his horse to get the saddle-cloth.

"Oh, don't take off the saddle--it will detain you too long," said Cap,
impatiently.

"My pretty Cap, I cannot get the cloth without taking it off," said the
man, beginning to unbuckle the girth.

"Oh, yes, you can; you can draw it from under," persisted Cap.

"Impossible, my angel," said the man, lifting off the saddle from his
horse and laying it carefully by the roadside.

Then he took off the gay, crimson saddle-cloth and carried it into the
little clearing and began carefully to spread it down.

Now was Cap's time. Her horse had recovered from his fatigue. The
stranger's horse was in the path before her. While the man's back was
turned she raised her riding whip and, with a shout, gave the front
horse a sharp lash that sent him galloping furiously ahead. Then,
instantaneously putting whip to her own horse, she started into a run.

Hearing the shout, the lash and the starting of the horses, the baffled
villain turned and saw that his game was lost; he had been outwitted by
a child! He gnashed his teeth and shook his fist in rage.

Turning as she wheeled out of sight, Capitola--I am sorry to say--put
her thumb to the side of her nose and whirled her fingers into a
semicircle, in a gesture more expressive than elegant.

CHAPTER XVII.

ANOTHER STORM AT HURRICANE HALL.

At this, Sir Knight grew high in wroth,
And lifting hands and eyes up both,
Three times he smote on stomach stout,
From whence, at lengt