as the moon rose higher; and once, in the midst
of Fred's gloomiest thoughts, came, like a gleam of the moon on the
water to lighten all around, the feeling that the world was, after all,
a very beautiful place, and that it was man himself who made it
miserable.

"I mean boy," said Fred, in his musings. "No, I do not; I mean man, for
he is to blame for all this terrible war in which we are going against
the king. But my father says it is just, so I have no right to think
differently."

"How far are we from Newton, Samson?" he asked his follower.

"'Bout four miles now, sir. We've got to turn out of the main west
road, and go through the wood next. Soon be there now."

The turning was reached at the end of another half mile, and the advance
guard soon after came to the edge of the wood, through which a good road
had been cut, the only drawback being that the overhanging trees made it
dark.

Upon this occasion, though, the moon was rising higher and higher,
pouring down a flood of silver light, which lit up the denser part with
its soft diaphanous rays.

The solemn beauty of the scene, with its velvety shadows and silvery
light, impressed every member of the party, so that they rode on in
silence, the horses' hoofs sounding loudly, and the night being so still
that the patter of the advance guard and of those in the rear was
plainly audible.

"How much more is there of this woodland, Samson?" asked Fred, after a
time.

"Not much more, sir, though I can't be sure--it's so many years since I
rode through it with your father--when I was quite a boy."

"What's that?"

"Nothing, sir. Fox, perhaps, or a deer. Everything sounds so plainly
on a night like this. Hear the advance?"

"Yes. Keep close, my lads," cried Fred. "No straggling in the
darkness."

The men closed up, and they were going steadily on, congratulating
themselves on the fact that they would soon be out in the open. A keen
eye was kept upon the prisoners, though there was very little chance for
their escape. The bonds were secure, and their horses' bridles out of
their reach, while, had there been a disposition to urge a horse away
from the rest, and make a dash for it in the darkness, the chances were
that the poor beast would have declined to stir from his companions.
The horse is by nature an animal which, for mutual protection, goes with
a drove of his fellows; and, allowing for the formality of cavalry
movements, there is somethin