hand them in.

Betty demurred. "We have duties here first," she said, pointing to the
inanimate form of poor Samuel Barnes.

"It is well then," said Wild Jack, just touching the prostrate man with
the toe of his boot. "We will leave you now, with many apologies, madam,
for our intrusion."

The others were already in the saddle and almost out of sight.

Wild Jack, who was about to mount, withdrew his foot from the stirrup
and approached Betty once more.

"Go, go!" she said. "This poor man bleeds; ah, why do you not go?"

"I am gone," he answered. "But first, fair lady, in consideration of the
booty I have resigned I demand a reward."

"What can I give you?"

He pointed to her hand, on one finger of which was a small gold ring in
the form of a serpent with tiny ruby eyes.

"Give me that," he said somewhat imperiously.

"You are welcome," she said haughtily, and she drew the ring from her
finger. "I would give a trinket of more value," she cried, stamping her
little foot, "to be freed from your company now!"

The words stung him.

"You will remember those words, madam," he said, "some day--when this
ring returns to your keeping."

He shut the lantern, which during all this time had thrown its yellow
light on the strange scene, mounted his horse and disappeared. The horse
was snow white, and it passed by like a white gleam in the darkness.

It was pitch dark now, and the horror of their situation was increased
by the moans which Mr. Barnes began to utter as consciousness slowly
returned.

It was a relief to all when the familiar sound of flint and steel smote
the ear, and the coachman awkwardly, with his bound hands, attempted to
light the lamps of the coach. Betty's first business was to unfasten the
ropes which bound the men hand and foot, and by degrees they were able
to take in their exact position.

One of the leaders had been shot dead, the traces had been cut, but the
frightened horses had not strayed out of reach.

Mary Jones was in a dead faint, and, in the absence of all restoratives,
seemed likely to remain so.

Mr. Barnes, his head carefully bound up by Betty and her father, was at
last able to rise to his feet and take his place in the carriage.

The dawn was already breaking, and a white light stealing over the murky
sky, before the mail could once more get under weigh and move heavily
forwards.

Far and wide the downs stretched, silent and deserted; a bitter wind
swept over them and