esn't
matter, we're all right now. I mean to take it easy." MacWilliams
turned on his back and stretched out his legs on the seat opposite.

"Where do you suppose those men sprang from? Were they following us
all the time?"

"Perhaps, or else that message got over the wire before we cut it, and
they've been lying in wait for us. They were probably watching King
and his sailors for the last hour or so, but they didn't want him.
They wanted her and the money. It was pretty exciting, wasn't it?
How's your shoulder?"

"It's a little stiff, thank you," said Langham. He stood up and by
peering over the hood could just see the top of Clay's sombrero rising
above it where he sat on the back seat.

"You and Hope all right up there, Clay?" he asked.

The top of the sombrero moved slightly, and Langham took it as a sign
that all was well. He dropped back into his seat beside MacWilliams,
and they both breathed a long sigh of relief and content. Langham's
wounded arm was the one nearest MacWilliams, and the latter parted the
torn sleeve and examined the furrow across the shoulder with
unconcealed envy.

"I am afraid it won't leave a scar," he said, sympathetically.

"Won't it?" asked Langham, in some concern.

The horses had dropped into a walk, and the beauty of the moonlit night
put its spell upon the two boys, and the rustling of the great leaves
above their heads stilled and quieted them so that they unconsciously
spoke in whispers.

Clay had not moved since the horses turned of their own accord into the
valley of the palms. He no longer feared pursuit nor any interruption
to their further progress. His only sensation was one of utter
thankfulness that they were all well out of it, and that Hope had been
the one who had helped them in their trouble, and his dearest thought
was that, whether she wished or not, he owed his safety, and possibly
his life, to her.

She still crouched between his knees upon the broad footboard, with her
hands clasped in front of her, and looking ahead into the vista of soft
mysterious lights and dark shadows that the moon cast upon the road.
Neither of them spoke, and as the silence continued unbroken, it took a
weightier significance, and at each added second of time became more
full of meaning.

The horses had dropped into a tired walk, and drew them smoothly over
the white road; from behind the hood came broken snatches of the boys'
talk, and above their heads the heavy lea