-the sound of the iron against the rocks--the
Knights of the Horseshoe! 'Gad, I'll send to London and have little
horseshoes--little gold horseshoes--made, and every man of us shall wear
one. The Knights of the Golden Horseshoe! It hath an odd, charming sound,
eh, gentlemen?"

None of the gentlemen were prepared to deny that it was a quaint and
pleasing title. Instead, out of very lightness of heart and fantastic
humor, they must needs have the Burgundy again unpacked, that they might
pledge at once all valorous discoverers, his Excellency the Governor of
Virginia, and their new-named order. And when the wine was drunk, the
rangers were drawn up, the muskets were loaded, and a volley was fired
that brought the echoes crashing about their heads. The Governor mounted,
the trumpet sounded once more, and the joyous company swept down the
narrow valley toward the long, blue, distant ranges.

The pioneer, his wife and children, watched them go. One of the gentlemen
turned in his saddle and waved his hand. Alce curtsied, but Molly, at whom
he had looked, saw him not, because her eyes were full of tears. The
company reached and entered a cleft between the hills; a moment, and men
and horses were lost to sight; a little longer, and not even a sound could
be heard.

It was as though they had taken the sunshine with them; for a cloud had
come up from the west, and the sun was hidden. All at once the valley
seemed a sombre and lonely place, and the hills with their whispering
trees looked menacingly down upon the clearing, the cabin, and the five
simple English folk. The glory of the day was gone. After a little more
of idle staring, the frontiersman and his son returned to their work in
the forest, while Alce and Molly went indoors to their spinning, and
Audrey sat down upon the doorstep to listen to the hurry of voices in the
trees, and to watch the ever-deepening shadow of the cloud above the
valley.

CHAPTER II

THE COURT OF THE ORPHAN

An hour before dusk found the company that had dined in the valley making
their way up the dry bed of a stream, through a gorge which cleft a line
of precipitous hills. On either hand the bank rose steeply, giving no
footing for man or beast. The road was a difficult one; for here a tall,
fern-crowned rock left but a narrow passage between itself and the shaggy
hillside, and there smooth and slippery ledges, mounting one above the
other, spanned the way. In places, too, the drough