challenged through the
lines.

When he reached the spot where he had first seen Trusia--the place of
the accident, he checked his horse to indulge in the sensations the
scene awakened. He beheld again the marble beauty of the face; he felt
the wondrous softness of the skin, and once more his heart was entangled
in the meshes of the fragrant hair as the loosened strands blew against
his hot cheek.

Round the bend in the road, as then, he heard approaching hoof beats. He
marveled that his heart should beat so high merely for the advent of
Lady Natalie. In the indulgence of his dream, the suggested thuds
presaged the coming of Trusia. He sat immovably upon his horse in
mid-road, waiting. Every sense was aquiver, every nerve on edge.

A black horse swept into view as it first had in his fancy. It was
ridden by Trusia. Saladin had not forgotten. As his mistress reined him
in, his wide eyes shifted about distrustfully. A quiver ran beneath the
satiny flanks while his slender legs trembled. Carter made no effort to
conceal his surprise, as he lifted his hat in salutation.

"Your Highness," he ejaculated.

"Yes," she laughed. "Why, aren't you disappointed? Lady Natalie is. Her
mother found some unwelcome duty shirked which she insisted should be
properly discharged. I am her apologetic substitute. Besides I wished to
discipline Saladin to this place before he should acquire the habit of
shying at it. There, Beauty," she said patting his arching neck as he
snorted in pure ecstasy of terrified recollections. Calmed by her
caressing voice and the touch of her hand he stretched forth his head to
nozzle the other horse in neighborly fashion.

"Natalie is a sweet girl, Major Carter," she said tentatively, giving
him his full title. "Am I forgiven for coming--in her stead?"

"On condition that Your Highness will do me the honor of riding with
me--in her stead." He smiled his usual frank smile. "Besides," he
pleaded, "it will take me some time to thank you for your kindness in
giving me my brevet. I know it is an honor which many a man of Krovitch
would die to win."

She flushed as she answered him. "It was but a small return for what you
have suffered."

In silent assent to his invitation, she pointed her crop to a path among
the trees, which might easily have escaped the observation of those not
familiar with its existence.

"Right beyond the turn in the road is a bypath. Let us take that. It
goes down into the heart of