of these Rosalind had
been placed. The other was bestrode by a savage, who appeared to be the
leader of the band. Zeb's hands were pinioned behind his back, and he
was compelled to walk behind the horse of Rosalind, with a guard that
kept a close eye upon his movements.

[Illustration: There were two horses in the party, and upon one of these
Rosalind had been placed.]

Silently yet rapidly the body moved along through the forest of
impenetrable darkness, where a perfect knowledge was required in order
to make the least progress. Rosalind's horse was a powerful creature,
and carried her with comparative comfort. Now and then the cold leaves
brushed her face, or her body grazed some tree, yet the animal carried
her safely and unharmed. Several times the thought of escape flashed
upon her. It seemed easy to turn her horse's head and gallop beyond the
reach of her enemies. But one of them was mounted, and she believed she
could elude him. She could ride down those immediately around her, and
what was there to prevent her making good her escape?

And yet, after a few more minutes of thought, she abandoned all hopes of
liberty for the present. Her brother was free, and would leave no means
untried until she was again restored to him; and there was _another
one_, who, she knew in her heart, would exert himself to the utmost to
save her. This thought caused her heart to beat faster and faster.
There was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke:

"Zeb, come a little nearer to me."

He made a movement, but was unable to approach much nearer.

"Are you listening?" she asked, in a subdued tone.

"Yes, missus; mouth, ears and eyes is open."

"Then," said she, bending toward him and lowering her voice still more,
"I wish to ask you, Zeb, whether you would do me a favor?"

"Lord bless you, missus, you knows I'd die a hundred times for you."

"I believe you would," returned Rosalind, touched by his tone and words;
"but it is no hardship that I ask of you."

"Well, out with it quick, fur dese fellers don't like to see yer horse's
side rubbin' all de wool off ob my head."

"You are acquainted with Roland Leslie, Zeb?" asked Rosalind, bending
lower and speaking in a whisper which she scarcely heard herself.

"Yes," answered Zeb, breathing hurriedly.

"Well, should you see him, tell him of my situation; and--and--tell him
not to run into danger for my sake."

"I will," rejoined Zeb, fervently.

Here a savage, judging t