was news indeed—news so unexpected and startling that I forgot all caution.
“Then what road do they call this?”
She laughed at my evident ignorance, as well as the eagerness of my tone.
“Really, you are a most peculiar guide,” she exclaimed gayly. “You almost convince me that you are lost. Fortunately, sir, out of my vast knowledge of this mysterious region, I am able to enlighten you to some extent. We are now riding due southward along the Allentown pike.”
Craig leaned forward so as to look across her horse's neck to where I rode on the opposite side.
“May I speak a word, sir?” he asked cautiously.
“Certainly, Sergeant; do you make anything out of all this?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered eagerly. “I know now exactly how we missed it, and where we are. The cut-off to the White Briar I spoke to you about this afternoon cannot be more than a hundred yards below here.”
“Ride ahead carefully then, and see if you can locate it. Be cautious; there may be a picket stationed there. We will halt where we are until you return.”
He swung forward his carbine where it would be handy for instant service and trotted ahead into the darkness. The woman's horse, being comparatively fresh and restless, danced a little in an effort to follow, but I restrained him with a light hand on the bit, and for a moment we sat waiting in silence. Then her natural curiosity prompted a question.
“Why is it you seem so anxious to discover this cutoff?”
“We merely desire to take advantage of the more direct road,” I replied somewhat shortly. “Besides, we are much farther to the east than I had supposed, and therefore too close to the lines of the enemy.”
“How strange it is you should not have known!” she exclaimed in a voice of indignant wonder; but as I made no reply she did not venture to speak again.
My thoughts at that moment, indeed, were not with her, although I kept firm hold upon her rein. I was eager to be off, to make up by hard riding the tedious delay of this night's work, and constantly listening in dread for some sounds of struggle down the roadway. But all remained silent until I could dimly distinguish the returning hoof-beats of the Sergeant's horse; and so anxious was I to economize time that I was already urging our mounts forward when his shadow grew black in front, and he wheeled in at my side.
“No picket there, sir.”
“Very well, Sergeant; when we come to the turn you are to ride a few rods in advance of us, and will set a good pace, for now we must make up for all this lost time.”
I caught the motion of his hand as it was lifted in salute.
“Very well, sir; here is the turn—to your right.”
I could dimly distinguish the opening designated, and as we wheeled into it he at once clapped spurs to his horse and forged ahead. In another moment he had totally disappeared, and as I urged our reluctant mounts to more rapid speed all sound of his progress was instantly lost in the pounding of our own hoofs on the hard road.
It was like riding directly against a black wall, and far from comforting to the nerves, for the path was a strange one, and not too well made. Fortunately the horses followed the curves without mishap, save an occasional awkward stumble amid loose stones, while the high walls of rock on either hand made a somewhat denser shadow where they shut off the lower stars, and thus helped me to guide our progress.
But it was no time for conversation, even had the inclination been mine, for every nerve was now strained to intensity as I spurred on my horse and held tightly to the bridle of the other, almost cursing, as I rode, the unlucky chance which brought us such a burden on a night like this.
CHAPTER IV. — A WOMAN WITH A TEMPER
I thought the stars grew somewhat brighter as we galloped on, the iron-shod hoofs now and then striking out sudden sparks of yellow flame from the flinty surface of the road; but this may have resulted from the lowering of the rocky barriers on either side, making the arch of sky more clearly visible. The air perceptibly freshened, with a chilly mountain wind beating against our faces and rustling the leaves of the phantom trees that lined the way. The woman rode silently and well. I could make out her figure now, dim and indistinct as the outlines were in that darkness and wrapped in the loose folds of an officer's cloak. She was sitting firm and upright in the saddle; I even marked how, with the ease and grace of a practical horsewoman, she held the reins.
I think we must have been fully an hour at it, riding at no mean pace, and with utter disregard of danger. Although I knew little of where we were, and nothing as to the condition of the path we traversed, yet so complete was my confidence in Craig that I felt no hesitancy in blindly following the pace he set. Then a black shape loomed up before us so suddenly that it was only by a quick effort I prevented a collision. Even as I held my horse poised half in air, I perceived it was Craig who blocked the way.
“What is it, Sergeant?”
“A picket, sir, at the end of the road,” he said quietly.
“I kinder reckoned they'd hev some sort o' guard thar, so I crept up on the quiet ter be sure. The feller helped me out a bit by strikin' a match ter see what time 't was, or I reckon I'd a walked over him in ther dark.”
“Had we better ride him down?” I asked, thinking only how rapidly the night hours were speeding and of the importance of the duty pressing upon us.
“Not with ther woman, sir,” he answered in a low, reproachful voice. “Besides, we never could git through without a shot, an' if by any dern luck it should turn out ter be a cavalry outpost—an' I sorter reckon that's what it is—why, our horses are in no shape fer a hard run. You uns better wait here, sir, an' let me tend ter that soger man quiet like, an' then p'raps we uns kin all slip by without a stirrin' up ther patrol.”
“Well,” I said, reluctantly yielding to what I felt was doubtless the wiser course, and mechanically grasping the rein he held out to me, “go ahead. But be careful, and don't waste any time. If we hear the sound of a shot we shall ride forward under spur.”
“All right, sir, but there 'll be no fuss, fer I know just whar ther fellar is.”
Time seems criminally long when one is compelled to wait in helpless uncertainty, every nerve on strain.
“Hold yourself ready for a sudden start,” I said warningly to my companion. “If there is any noise of a struggle yonder I shall drive in the spurs.”
As I spoke I swung the Sergeant's horse around to my side, where I could control him more readily.
There was no reply from the woman, but I noticed she endeavored to draw together the flapping cape of her cloak, as though she felt chilled by the wind, and her figure seemed to stiffen in the saddle.
“Are you cold?” I questioned, more perhaps to throttle my own nervousness by speech than from better motive.
She
