and
they both knew that only a friend could be coming with the boy. Her
whole form relaxed under the relief. If Paul could but open his eyes, if
his breath would but come a little more quickly, and a little less
faintly! Her tears were falling on his still, white face, now that there
was no further need for self-control, or courage. She steadied her
voice, and told the story as clearly as she could, when Father Orin
asked again how she came to be in such a place, and what it was that had
led to the wounding of Paul Colbert.

While she was speaking the horsemen reached them, and they saw that the
man with David was the attorney-general. He hurriedly knelt down by his
friend's side. He did not ask what had happened. He had already gathered
much of the truth from what the boy had told him. He knew that Paul
Colbert lay there, badly wounded, dying perhaps, in his place. He was
too much moved at first to speak.

"He knew that I was coming alone over this road to-night. He suspected a
plot to waylay me, too late to warn me. When he could not do that he
came to share the danger. It was like him," he said when he found voice.

He took the nerveless hand and held it a moment in silence, and then he
laid it gently down and stood up, looking about through the moonlight,
toward the cypress swamp and Duff's Fort.

"But why did the scoundrels run away before finishing their infamous
work? And where is the doctor's horse? Ah! They have stolen that, of
course. Which way did they go? Did you see or hear them, Father?"

"No; Toby and I were too far off," the priest replied. "We were coming
back from a sick call. It was too dark to see. The first and only sound
I heard was Ruth's voice, calling Philip Alston's name."

"Oh!--I begin to understand," said the attorney-general.

He stopped--remembering--and looked down at Ruth. She had not heard
what he said. She was bending closer to Paul's white face and listening
to his laboring breath.

"We must get him home as quickly as possible," the attorney-general went
on. "My duty at Duff's Fort must wait on this. And I am not sacrificing
the state to a friend, or to gratitude. It would be worse than useless
to go on to-night, now that our plans are betrayed. I am very anxious
about my men. They should be here before now. According to our plans,
they should have been within hearing of the first sound of trouble and
ready to come at once. I am afraid they, too, have fallen into a trap;
but