h-ll won't protect him when
he strikes a white man!" burst out one of the masked figures, riding
forward.

"Then you compel me to show YOU," said Courtland immovably, "what any
Federal citizen may do in the defense of Federal law. For I'll kill the
first man that attempts to lay hands upon him on my property. Some of
you, who have already tried to assassinate him in cold blood, I have met
before in less dishonorable warfare than this, and THEY know I am able
to keep my word."

There was a moment's silence; the barrel of the revolver he was holding
at his side glistened for an instant in the moonlight, but he did not
move. The two men rode up to the first speaker and exchanged words. A
light laugh followed, and the first speaker turned again to Courtland
with a mocking politeness.

"Very well, co'nnle, if that's your opinion, and you allow we can't
follow our game over your property, why, we reckon we'll have to give
way TO THOSE WHO CAN. Sorry to have troubled YOU. Good-night."

He lifted his hat ironically, waved it to his followers, and the next
moment the whole party were galloping furiously towards the high road.

For the first time that evening a nervous sense of apprehension passed
over Courtland. The impending of some unknown danger is always more
terrible to a brave man than the most overwhelming odds that he can
see and realize. He felt instinctively that they had uttered no vague
bravado to cover up their defeat; there was still some advantage on
which they confidently reckoned--but what? Was it only a reference to
the other party tracking them through the woods on which their enemies
now solely relied? He regained Cato quickly; the white teeth of the
foolishly confident negro were already flashing his imagined triumph to
his employer. Courtland's heart grew sick as he saw it.

"We're not out of the woods yet, Cato," he said dryly; "nor are they.
Keep your eyes and ears open, and attend to me. How long can we keep
in the cover of these woods, and still push on in the direction of the
quarters?"

"There's a way roun' de edge o' de swamp, sah, but we'd have to go back
a spell to find it."

"Go on!"

"And dar's moccasins and copperheads lying round here in de trail! Dey
don't go for us ginerally--but," he hesitated, "white men don't stand
much show."

"Good! Then it is as bad for those who are chasing us as for me. That
will do. Lead on."

They retraced their steps cautiously, until the negro turne