t and carousal, sat two swarthy figures,
haggard and wan from night-watching, armed at every point, and keeping
strict guard over the prisoners.

The occasional snort and pawing of horses in the neighboring wood showed
that these animals were alert at the earliest dawn; whilst among the
first who seemed aware of the approach of day, was seen rising from the
earth, where it had been flung in stupid torpor for some hours, the
bloated and unsightly person of Hugh Habershaw, now much the worse for
the fatigue and revelry of the preceding night. A savage and surly
expression was seated on his brow, and his voice broke forth more than
ordinarily harsh and dissonant, as he ordered the troop to rouse and
prepare for their march.

The summons was tardily obeyed; and while the yawning members of the
squad were lazily moving to their several duties and shaking off the
fumes of their late debauch, the captain was observed bending over the
prostrate form of Gideon Blake, and directing a few anxious inquiries
into his condition. The wounded man was free from pain, but his limbs
were stiff, and the region of the stab sore and sensitive to the least
touch. The indications, however, were such as to show that his wound was
not likely to prove mortal. By the order of Habershaw, a better litter
was constructed, and the troopers were directed to bear him, by turns,
as far as Christie's, where he was to be left to the nursing of the
family. It was a full hour before the horses were saddled, the scattered
furniture collected, and the preparations for the march completed. When
these were accomplished the prisoners were provided with the two
sorriest horses of the troop, and they now set forward at a slow pace,
under the escort of four men commanded by James Curry. The two troopers
who bore the sick man followed on foot; Habershaw with the remainder,
one of whom had appropriated Captain Peter, whilst he led the horses of
the dismounted men, brought up the rear.

On the journey there was but little spoken by any member of the party;
the boisterous and rude nature of the men who composed the troop seemed
to have been subdued by sleep into a temper of churlish indifference or
stolid apathy. Peppercorn, or James Curry, as the reader now recognises
him, strictly preserved his guard over the prisoners, manifesting a
severity of manner altogether different from the tone of careless
revelry which characterized his demeanor on the preceding night. It