, however, was not one to let slip
such a suggestion to his nerves--or his senses. His nerves were
of the coolest and steadiest kind; he could depend on _them_ for
getting up no shams to puzzle him; and his senses had had
capital training. Eye and ear were keen almost as those of
some of the wild creatures whose dependence they are; and
Rollo had the craft and skill of a practised hunter. So
instead of dismissing the fancy that had struck him, as most
men would, he fell noiselessly into the shadow again, with
eyes and ears alive on the instant to take evidence that might
be relied on. But nothing stirred. Nothing shewed. Except as
before, the yellow moonlight and the dark trees. Rollo was a
hunter, and patient. He stood still. The shadowy edges of the
stream of light changed slowly, slightly, and still the
evidence he looked for did not come. Nothing seemed to change
but those dark fringes; only now some wave of the branches as
the wind began to rise, let in the moonlight for a moment upon
a small white speck across the road. He thought so: something
whiter than a wet stone or a bleached stick,--or it might be
fancy. Noiselessly and almost invisibly, for Dane could move
like an Indian, and with such quickness, he was over the road
and at the spot. There was no mistaking the token--it was a
little glove of Wych Hazel's. Evidently dropped in haste; for
one of her well-known jewelled fastenings lay glittering in
his hand. But--Mrs. Gen. Merrick lived quite in another quarter
of the world; and in no case did the direct road from
Merricksdale lead by here.

If Rollo's senses had been alive before, which was but their
ordinary and normal condition, he was now in the frame of mind
of a Sioux on the war-path, and in corresponding alertness and
acuteness of every faculty. The little glove was swiftly put
where it would furnish a spot of light to no one else; and in
breathless readiness for action, though that is rhetorical,
for Rollo's breath was as regular and as calm as cool nerves
could make it, he subsided again into the utter inaction which
is all eye and ear. And then in a few minutes, from across the
road again, and near where he was at first, came these soft
words:

'Mr. Rollo--will you give quarter if I surrender at discretion?
Just to save you trouble--and let me get home the quicker.'

In the next instant the gentleman stood by the lady's side.
Well for him that he was a hunter, and that habit is a great
thing