aconic friend.

Of course when the coach was well away from the inn, Dawson received new
instructions, and took the road to Rowsley. When the ladies had departed,
I went to the tap-room with Stanley, and after paying the host for the
coffee, the potatoes, and the dinner which alas! we had not tasted, I
ordered a great bowl of sack and proceeded to drink with my allies in the
hope that I might make them too drunk to follow us. Within half an hour I
discovered that I was laboring at a hopeless task. There was great danger
that I would be the first to succumb; so I, expressing a wish to sleep off
the liquor before the ladies should return, made my escape from the
tap-room, mounted my horse, and galloped furiously after Dorothy and
Madge. John was riding by the coach when I overtook it.

It was two hours past noon when I came up with John and the girls. Snow
had been falling softly earlier in the afternoon, but as the day advanced
the storm grew in violence. A cold, bleak wind was blowing from the north,
and by reason of the weather and because of the ill condition of the
roads, the progress of the coach was so slow that darkness overtook us
before we had finished half of our journey to Rowsley. Upon the fall of
night the storm increased in violence, and the snow came in piercing,
horizontal shafts which stung like the prick of a needle.

At the hour of six--I but guessed the time--John and I, who were riding
at the rear of the coach, heard close on our heels the trampling of
horses. I rode forward to Dawson, who was in the coach box, and told him
to drive with all the speed he could make. I informed him that some one
was following us, and that I feared highwaymen were on our track.

Hardly had I finished speaking to Dawson when I heard the report of a
hand-fusil, back of the coach, near the spot where I had left John. I
quickly drew my sword, though it was a task of no small labor, owing to
the numbness of my fingers. I breathed along the blade to warm it, and
then I hastened to John, whom I found in a desperate conflict with three
ruffians. No better swordsman than John ever drew blade, and he was
holding his ground in the darkness right gallantly. When I rode to his
rescue, another hand-fusil was discharged, and then another, and I knew
that we need have no more fear from bullets, for the three men had
discharged their weapons, and they could not reload while John and I were
engaging them. I heard the bullets tell upon