commands to this effect from one he dare not
disobey. Before starting, his chief gave him instructions, to be
carried out or disregarded at peril of his life. He has no intention to
disobey them--indeed, no inclination. A stern old sinner, his weakness
is not woman--perhaps for this very reason selected for the delicate
duty now intrusted to him. Instead of paying court to his fair captive,
or presuming to hold speech with her, he only thinks how he can best
discharge it to the satisfaction of his superior. No need to keep her
any longer on the horse. She must be fatigued; the attitude is irksome,
and he may get blamed; for not releasing her from it. Thus reflecting,
he flings his arms around her, draws her down, and lays her gently along
the earth.

Having so disposed of her, he pulls out his pipe, lights it, and
commences smoking, apparently without, further thought of the form at
his feet. That spoil is not for him.

But there is another, upon which he has set his mind. One altogether
different from woman. It is Dupre's treasure, of which he is to have
his share; and he speculates how much it will come to on partition. He
longs to feast his eyes with a sight of the shining silver of which
there has been so much talk among the robbers; and grand expectations
excited; its value as I usual exaggerated.

Pondering upon it, he neither looks at his captive, nor thinks of her.
His glances are toward the river ford, which he sees not, but I hears;
listening amid the water's monotone for the plunging of horses hoofs.
Impatiently, too, as between the puffs from his pipe, he ever and anon
utters a grunt of discontent at the special duty imposed upon him, which
may hinder him from getting his full share of the spoils.

Unlike is the behaviour of him on the other side of the oak. He, too,
has dismounted his captive, and laid her along the ground. But not to
stand idly over. Instead, he leaves her, and walks away from the spot,
having attached his horse to the trunk of the tree, by hooking the
bridle-rein over a piece of projecting bark. He has no fear that she
will make her escape, or attempt it. Before parting he has taken
precautions against that, by lashing her limbs together.

All this without saying a word--not even giving utterance to an
exclamation!

In like silence he leaves her, turning his face toward the river, and
striking along a trace that conducts to it.

Though several hundred yards from th