always the hum of insect, or the
song of bird to while away the monotony of a journey, but in the
winter there is naught to break the quiet. 'Tis as though all Nature
slept under the blanket of snow. Still, the riding hath not been hard.
A sleigh is so much easier than a wagon. You girls are tired, though,
I can see. What are you looking at, Sally?"

"There seems to be something moving over there," answered Sally
indicating some small elevations about three miles to the north of the
road. "Thee will get thy wish, Friend Nurse, for something is surely
moving about. We have seen naught for so long that any living thing is
curious. What are those specks, Friend Fairfax? They are too large for
ducks."

The youth turned and gazed steadily at the sand-hills to which she
pointed. They were covered with snow which made them appear like ice
hummocks in the sunshine, and which rendered the small black objects
moving among them very distinct.

"They look to me like men," remarked Peggy who sat on the front seat
beside Fairfax.

"They are men," he responded. "Men and horses."

"I wonder what they are doing there," cried Sally.

The youth did not reply, and Peggy caught the look that passed between
him and his mother. She bent toward him quickly.

"What is it?" she asked. "What does thee fear?"

"I fear they are desperadoes," he replied. "I must make yon
farmhouse."

With an exclamation the girl turned to look again at the sand-hills.
To her amazement the spots that had been so indeterminate a few
moments since now had become a body of horsemen, which was moving
rapidly toward them. Fairfax was pale. He leaned forward and spoke
to the horses just as Sally cried:

"They see us, Fairfax. They are coming on the run."

"Can you drive, Peggy?" he asked.

"Yes," she told him breathlessly.

"Then take my place," he said. "See the farmhouse to the right on that
crossroad? We must make that, Peggy. I must get out the guns. If they
catch us there will be a fight."

"I have the ammunition, son," said Nurse Johnson. "Get over here, and
let me do the loading."

Peggy took the lines, and the youth stooped down and drew the muskets
from under the front seat of the sleigh.

"Drive, Peggy," he called excitedly as he rose with the weapons.
"Drive as you never drove before. They are gaining on us."

CHAPTER X

A RACE FOR LIFE

"What boots the oft-repeated tale of strife,
The feast of vultures, and the waste of life