ury it
seemed as though they had stopped stock-still. He was not a good man
in such a position as this; he was all for dashing action. He could
hardly sit still. They received many side glances from the excited
groups, but they passed merely as a carriage full of nervous
foreigners. Danbury himself was not recognized. So they crept along
and Danbury gained hope, until they were within two hundred yards of
the turn which would take them out of the line of march. Then with
hoarse shouting, the advance line of the revolutionists swept around a
corner and directly towards them.

They were a yelling horde of half-drunken maniacs,--a disordered horde
eager for the noisy excitement their Southern blood craved. With half
of them it was more the frenzied love of flags and noise that had
brought them out than any deep-seated conviction of right. But the
thing that brought Danbury to attention was the sight of Splinter with
forty of his fellows from the boat leading the crowd. In an instant he
was off the box and inside the carriage. He realized what it would
mean to be recognized by him. He had but one thought--to guard the
safety of her within.

The driver advanced at a walk, keeping as close as possible to the
curbing. There was just one chance in a thousand that the crowd might
be too intent upon their goal to bother with passing vehicles. They
were not after the Queen herself, for they looked upon her as a mere
girl influenced by Otaballo. Should they chance upon her, undoubtedly
they would feel obliged to arrest her, but she was not at the moment
of such supreme importance as to make them alert to prevent her
escape. Danbury knew this. The danger lay in the impudent curiosity of
some one of the soldiers. Each felt the license of the law breaker. It
was the spirit that led them to destroy property for the sheer joy of
destroying that he had to fear. He held his weapon ready, sitting far
back. The girl was white and calm. They watched the first few
stragglers pass in dead silence; they heard the clattering confusion
yet to pass.

Then a soldier thrust his musket through the glass with a coarse
laugh. He peered within, but the girl's face was shielded so that the
most he saw was that she was a girl. The muzzle of Danbury's revolver
was within a foot of his head and a finger trembled upon the hair
trigger. Still he forced himself to wait a second longer.

"Get out, my pretty lady--get out an' join us," he shouted.

"What