ake that and divide it among your companions, and scatter
to distant parts of the country, where you may yet have a chance of
earning an honest livelihood! As for me, I shall have to quit the
country altogether, and it will take nearly half this sum to enable me
to do it. Now I have not a minute more to give you! So once more pledge
your captain and away!"

The men filled their mugs, rose to their feet, and pledged their leader
in a parting toast and then:

"Good luck to you all!" exclaimed Black Donald, waving his hat thrice
above his head with a valedictory hurrah. And the next moment he was
gone!

That night, if any watchman had been on guard near the stables of
Hurricane Hall, he might have seen a tall man mounted upon Capitola's
pony, ride up in hot haste, dismount and pick the stable lock, take Gyp
by the bridle and lead him in, and presently return leading out
Fleetfoot, Old Hurricane's racer, upon which he mounted and rode away.

The next morning, while Capitola was dressing, her groom rapped at the
door and, in great dismay, begged that he might speak to Miss Cap one
minute.

"Well, what is it, Jem?" said Capitola.

"Oh, Miss Cap, you'll kill me! I done been got up long afore day and
gone to Tip-Top arter Gyp, but somebody done been stole him away afore
I got there!"

"Thank heaven!" cried Capitola, to little Jem's unspeakable amazement.
For to Capitola the absence of her horse meant just the escape of Black
Donald!

The next minute Cap sighed and said:

"Poor Gyp! I shall never see you again!"

That was all she knew of the future!

That morning while they were all at breakfast a groom from the stables
came in with a little canvas bag in his hand, which he laid, with a
bow, before his master.

Major Warfield took it up; it was full of gold, and upon its side was
written, in red chalk:

"Three hundred dollars, to pay for Fleetfoot.--Black Donald, Reformed
Robber."

While Old Hurricane was reading this inscription, the groom said that
Fleetfoot was missing from his stall, and that Miss Cap's pony, that
was supposed to have been stolen, was found in his place, with this bag
of gold tied around his neck!

"It is Black Donald--he has escaped!" cried Old Hurricane, about to
fling himself into a rage, when his furious eyes encountered the gentle
gaze of Marah, that fell like oil on the waves of his rising passion.

"Let him go! I'll not storm on my silver wedding day," said Major
Warfield.

As