r, his gun flung over his shoulder, had Patsy with him.

"Quick, up with you! There!"

He placed her on Derry Down.

"Now, Louis--off with you, and remember what I said. Keep the upper side
of the valley, and if in difficulty let the little mare lead. I shall
follow, as soon as I can get a horse to ride. One of our lads lives not
far from here!"

"You have not killed him?" said Louis, anxiously.

"I do not know. I certainly let the marauding Turks have the benefit of
a few slugs," said Stair with carelessness. "If his princeship is a
little worse splintered than the others, why, so much the better. But
they will all have a souvenir to carry away. Now, ride, and never mind
me!"

In ten minutes Louis and Patsy were fairly safe from pursuit--at least
from any immediate pursuit. They followed the line of the White
Loch--the shore sand gleaming like silver beneath them making the task a
simple one. Then by easier gradients than the path by which they had so
precipitately descended, Louis struck diagonally for the old drove road.
As they mounted higher they became aware that the day was breaking
behind the distant Minnegaff ridges--the hills of the great names,
Bennanbrack, Benyellaray, Craignairny, The Spear of the Merrick, and the
Dungeon of Buchan, coming up one by one in delicate aerial perspective.

In half an hour Louis Raincy could see Patsy's face suffused with eager
joy, freedom and the red in the east together making it flush like a
dusky peach.

"Oh, I am so glad," she broke out when at last they could ride together
over a little stretch of bent, "I had not even my Canary Island knife,
or anything, but somehow I thought that you or Stair would follow me."

"It was all Stair's doing," said Louis; "he called me, and gave me the
chance to help him when he could quite as well have taken one of his
brothers, Fergus or Agnew."

"Why did he stay behind just now?" Patsy asked. "If they capture him
they will kill him."

"I think there is no great fear of that, for the present, at least,"
said Louis Raincy, loyally. "Stair Garland has many hiding-places. I
don't believe any one can catch him in his own land. He is off to find a
moor-pony and will ride after us as soon as it is safe. If not, he will
come home on foot, lying up in the daytime. He knows every farm and
cothouse and is welcome at all. Sea-cave and moss-hag, wood-shelter and
whin-bush, he knows every hidie-hole for forty mile."

Louis and Patsy kept