for these things. It was the age of Miss
Jane Austen's dainty heroines. Miss Fanny Burney was still at court,
writing in her _Diary_ that the King was very happy and innocent,
imagining himself each day in intimate converse with the angels.

But Patsy had no idea of fainting. Tears were far indeed from her eyes.
She was only calling herself a fool, and wishing that she had thought to
bring her little dagger with her--the double-edged one that Julian
Wemyss had given her on his return from the Canary Islands, black
leather sheath scrolled in gold to be worn in the stocking. Still since
she had not that, why, she would take the first weapon that came to her
hand. And whenever they ran dear of the fog, which happened at the top
of every considerable hill, her little white teeth gleamed in the
darkness with something like anticipation.

* * * * *

"Up, Louis, out with you--they are away! The Prince has carried off
Patsy. Here is your pony. Get in the saddle. I must manage without!"

Unceremoniously Stair Garland awaked Louis from his drowse in the cave's
mouth. He had ridden down from Castle Raincy to see if he could help.
The moment had come and Stair had not disappointed him.

"They are already on the road--in a carriage--Kennedy McClure's, I
think," said Stair; "stand still there, Derry Down, or by the Holy--!"
And he leaped into his saddle which was no more than the corn-sack
doubled and fastened close with broad bands of tape, used to go under
the heavy pack saddles when a run was forward.

"Where have they gone? Are they far ahead of us?" questioned Louis.

"They are on the military road--in a carriage and pair, going west. They
cannot get off it. But if you can trust your pony, we can cut corners
and ride as we like."

"Of course," said Louis; "show me the way--you know it better than I!"

So, each on his deft, sure-footed Galloway pony, like their ancestors of
the English forays of which Froissart tells, the two lads plunged into
the night.

They sped along the barren side of the Moors, taking any path or none,
whisking through the tall broom and leaping the whins. The ponies took
naturally to the sport. Sometimes the going was heavier, but not for so
little did the animals slacken. They were to the manner born, and minded
no more the deep black ruts of the peat, which in the more easterly
country are called "hags," than the open military road along which the
carriage was bo