ral principle of compensation, the
simplest obstacle was to bring us to grief. "There's many a slip,"
says the proverb. Very likely! One was enough for our business.
For just as we neared the edge of the wood, just as our eyes were
gladdened by the full sight of the sea across the intervening patch of
bare land, the signorina gave a cry of pain and, in spite of my arm,
fell heavily to the ground. In a moment I was on my knees by her side.
An old root growing out of the ground! That was all! And there lay my
dear girl white and still.

"What is it, sweet?" I whispered.

"My ankle!" she murmured; "O Jack, it hurts so!" and with that she
fainted.

Half an hour--thirty mortal (but seemingly immortal) minutes I knelt
by her side ministering to her. I bound up the poor foot, gave her
brandy from my flask. I fanned her face with my handkerchief. In a
few minutes she came to, but only, poor child, to sob with her bitter
pain. Move she could not, and would not. Again and again she entreated
me to go and leave her. At last I persuaded her to try and bear the
agony of being carried in my arms the rest of the way. I raised her as
gently as I could, wrung to the heart by her gallantly stifled groan,
and slowly and painfully I made my way, thus burdened, to the edge of
the wood. There were no sentries in sight, and with a new spasm of
hope I crossed the open land and neared the little wicket gate that
led to the jetty. A sharp turn came just before we reached it, and, as
I rounded this with the signorina lying yet in my arms, I saw a horse
and a man standing by the gate. The horse was flecked with foam and
had been ridden furiously. The man was calm and cool. Of course he
was! It was the President!

My hands were full with my burden, and before I could do anything, I
saw the muzzle of his revolver pointed full--At me? Oh, no! At the
signorina!

"If you move a step I shoot her through the heart, Martin," he said,
in the quietest voice imaginable.

The signorina looked up as she heard his voice.

"Put me down, Jack! It's no use," she said; "I knew how it would be."

I did not put her down, but I stood there helpless, rooted to the
ground.

"What's the matter with her?" he said.

"Fell and sprained her ankle," I replied.

"Come, Martin," said he, "it's no go, and you know it. A near thing;
but you've just lost."

"Are you going to stop us?" I said.

"Of course I am," said he.

"Let me put her down, and we'll have a f