continue fifty yards, before it again wound into the common road, and
remembering this, the outlaw hurried across the little copse which
separated the two routes for a space. The slow gait at which Colleton
now rode, unsuspicious of danger, enabled his enemy to gain the position
which he sought, close crouching on the edge of the thicket, just where
the roads again united. Here he waited--not many seconds.

The pace of our traveller, we have said, was slow. We may add that his
mood was also inattentive. He was not only unapprehensive of present
danger, but his thoughts were naturally yielded to the condition of the
two poor women, in that lonely abode of forest, whom he had just
rescued, in all probability, from a fearful death. Happy with the
pleasant consciousness of a good action well performed, and with spirits
naturally rising into animation, freed as they were from a late heavy
sense of danger--he was as completely at the mercy of the outlaw who
awaited him, pistol in hand, as if he lay, as his poor friend,
Forrester, so recently had done, directly beneath his knife.

And so thought Rivers, who heard the approaching footsteps, and now
caught a glimpse of his approaching shadow.

The outlaw deliberately lifted his pistol. It was already cocked. His
form was sheltered by a huge tree, and as man and horse gradually drew
nigh, the breathing of the assassin seemed almost suspended in his
ferocious anxiety for blood.

The dark shadow moved slowly along the path. The head of the horse is
beside the outlaw. In a moment the rider will occupy the same spot--and
then! The finger of the outlaw is upon the trigger--the deadly aim is
taken!--what arrests the deed? Ah! surely there is a Providence--a
special arm to save--to interpose between the criminal and his
victim--to stay the wilful hands of the murderer, when the deed seems
already done, as it has been already determined upon.

Even in that moment, when but a touch is necessary to destroy the
unconscious traveller--a sudden rush is heard above the robber. Great
wings sweep away, with sudden clatter, and the dismal hootings of an
owl, scared from his perch on a low shrub-tree, startles the
cold-blooded murderer from his propriety. With the nervous excitement of
his mind, and his whole nature keenly interested in the deed, to break
suddenly the awful silence, the brooding hush of the forest, with
unexpected sounds, and those so near, and so startling--for once the
outl