iery steed,
a new cause of apprehension, that paradoxically steadied Ethelinda's
nerves. Ackert had dismounted, throwing the reins over his arm. He
had caught sight of the hoof marks along the moist sandy spaces of the
channel, mute witness in point of number, and a guaranty of the truth of
her story. A sudden glitter arrested his eyes. He stooped and picked up
a broken belt-buckle with the significant initials U.S. yet showing upon
it.

"I'll hang that guide yet," he muttered, his eyes dark with angry
conviction, his face lowering with fury. "I'll hang him--I won't expect
to prove it p'int blank. Jes' let me git a mite o' suspicion, an' I'll
guarantee the slipknot!"

She could never understand her motive, her choice of the moment.

"Cap'n Ackert," she trembled forth. There was so much significance in
her tone that, standing at her side, he looked up in sudden expectation.
"I tole ye the truth whenst I say I _seen_ no guide"--he made a gesture
of impatience; he had no time for twice-told tales--"kase--kase the
guide war--war--myself."

The clear twilight fell full on his amazed, upturned face and the storm
of fury it concentrated.

"What did you do it fur?" he thundered, "you limb o' perdition!"

"Jes' ter help him some. He--he--he--would hev been capshured."

He would indeed! The guerilla was very terrible to look upon as his
brow corrugated, and his upturned eyes, with the light of the sky within
them, flashed ominously.

"You little she-devil!" he cried, and then speech seemed to fail him.

She had begun to shiver and shed tears and emit little gusts of quaking
sobs.

"Oh, I be so feared----" she whimpered.

"But--but--you mustn't hang--_nobody else_ on s'picion!"

There was a vague change in the expression of his face. He still stood
beside the saddle, with the reins over his arm, while the horse threw
his head almost to the ground and again tossed it aloft in his impatient
weariness of the delay.

"An' now you are captured yourself," he said, sternly. "You are
accountable fur your actions."

She burst into a paroxysm of sobs. "I never went ter tell! I meant ter
keep the secret! The folks in the Cove dun'no' nuthin'. But--oh, ye
_mustn't_ s'picion nobody else--ye _mustn't_ hang nobody else!"

Once more that indescribable change upon his face.

"You showed him the way to this pass yourself? Tell the truth!"

"He war ridin' his horse-critter--'tain't ez fast, nor fine, nor fat ez
yourn."

He st