es, halted by rain-swollen torrents, and was well-nigh starved
withal; of all these things you may read elsewhere. But now you must
ride with Richard Jennifer and me, and our way lay to the eastward.

All that Sunday we pressed forward, hasting as we could through the
stark columned aisles of the autumn-stripped forest, and looking hourly
to come upon Tarleton's legion marching out to Ferguson's relief.

Since Richard Jennifer had ridden to the hounds in all this middle
ground from boyhood, we were able to take my blind wanderings in reverse
as the arrow flies; and by nightfall we were well down upon the main
traveled road leading to Beattie's fording of the Catawba.

As your map will show you, this was taking me somewhat out of my way to
the northward; but it was Richard's most direct route to Salisbury and
beyond, and by veering thus we made the surer of missing Colonel
Tarleton, who, as we thought, would likely cross the river at the lower
ford.

Once in the high road we pushed on briskly for the river, nor did we
draw rein until the sweating beasts were picking their way in the
darkness down the last of the hills which sentinel the Catawba to the
westward.

At the foot of this hill a by-road led to Macgowan's ford some six miles
farther down the river, and here, as I supposed, our ways would lie
apart. But when we came to the forking of the road, Richard pulled his
mount into the by-path, clapping the spurs to the tired horse so that
we were a good mile beyond the forking before I could overtake him.

"How now, lad?" said I, when I had run him down. "Would you take a
fighting hazard when you need not? There is sure to be a British patrol
at the lower ford."

He jerked his beast down to a walk and we rode in silence side by side
for a full minute before he said gruffly: "You'd never find the way
alone."

I laughed. "Barring myself, you are the clumsiest of evaders, Dick. I am
on my own ground here, and that you know as well as I."

"Damn you!" he gritted between his teeth. "When we are coming near
Appleby Hundred you are fierce enough to be rid of me."

I saw his drift at that: how he would take all the chance of capture and
a spy's rope for the sake of passing within a mile of Mistress Margery,
or of the house he thought she was in.

"Go back, Dick, whilst you may," said I. "She is not at Appleby
Hundred."

He turned upon me like a lion at bay.

"What have you done with her?"

"Peace, you foolish b