Deslow felt strong misgivings about undertaking this delicate business.
But persuasions, flatteries, and promises prevailed upon him at last.
And at sundown he set out, accompanied by the man who had brought
Bythewood's letter.

In consequence of the messenger's long absence, it was beginning to be
feared, by those who had sent him, that he had gone on a fruitless
errand. Evening came. There was sadness on the faces of Penn and
Virginia, as they sat by the corpse of Salina. Pomp was gloomy and
silent. Bythewood, bound to Lysander's rock, sat waiting, with feelings
we will not seek to penetrate, for the answer to his letter. In that
letter he had mentioned, among other things, a certain pair of horses
that were in his stable. Had he known that the colonel, during his hour
of moroseness, had gone over to look at these horses, and that he was
now driving them about the village, well satisfied with the munificent
bribe, he would, no doubt, have felt easier in his mind.

"You will not go to your father to-night," said Penn, having looked out
into the gathering darkness, and returned to Virginia's side. "We have
one night more together. May be it is the last."

Carl was comforting his wounded cousin, who had been brought and placed
on some skins on the floor. The patriots were holding a consultation.
Suddenly the sentinel at the door announced an arrival; and to the
amazement of all, the messenger entered, followed by Deslow.

The traitor came in, smiling in most friendly fashion upon his late
companions, even offering his hand to Pomp, who did not accept it. Then
he saw in the faces that looked upon him a stern and terrible triumph.
By the rock he beheld Bythewood bound. And his heart sank.

The messenger brought a letter for Augustus. Pomp took it.

"This interests us!" he said, breaking the seal. "Excuse me, sir!"--to
Bythewood.--"I was once your servant; and I had forgotten that
circumstances have slightly changed! As your hands are confined, I will
read it for you."

He read aloud.

"Dear Gus: This is an awful bad scrape you have got into; but I
suppose I must get you out of it. Villars shall have passports, and
an escort, if he likes. I'll keep the soldiers from the mountains.
The hardest thing to arrange is the Deslow affair. I don't care a
curse for the fellow but I don't want the name of giving him up.
So, if I succeed in sending him, keep mum. Probably _he_ never will
c