his horse, and plunged into a thicket of alder
trees, where he was almost instantly safe from pursuit. It was now
altogether dark, and, having nowhere else to go, Frank resolved to
retrace his way back to the little inn at which he had passed the
previous night. The moon rose ere he had proceeded very far, bringing
with it a sharp frosty wind which made Frank glad to be moving rapidly
over the heather. He was whistling, lost in thought, when two riders
came behind him, ranging up silently on either side. The man on the
right of Frank addressed him in an English tongue and accent strange
enough to hear in these wilds.

"So ho, friend, whither so late?"

"To my supper and bed at Aberfoil!" replied Frank, curtly.

"Are the passes open?" the horseman went on, in the same commanding tone
of voice.

"I do not know," said Frank; "but if you are an English stranger, I
advise you to turn back till daybreak. There has been a skirmish, and
the neighbourhood is not perfectly safe for travellers."

"The soldiers had the worst of it, had they not?"

"They had, indeed--an officer's party was destroyed or made prisoners."

"Are you sure of that?" persisted the man on horseback.

"I was an unwilling spectator of the battle!" said Frank.

"Unwilling! Were not you engaged in it?"

"Certainly not," he answered, a little nettled at the man's tone. "I was
held a prisoner by the King's officer!"

"On what suspicion? And who and what are you?"

"I really do not know, sir," said Frank, growing quickly angry, "why I
should answer so many questions put to me by a stranger. I ask you no
questions as to your business here, and you will oblige me by making no
inquiries as to mine."

But a new voice struck in, in tones which made every nerve in the young
man's body tingle.

"Mr. Francis Osbaldistone," it said, "should not whistle his favourite
airs when he wishes to remain undiscovered."

And Diana Vernon, for it was she, wrapped in a horseman's cloak,
whistled in playful mimicry the second part of the tune, which had been
on Frank's lips as they came up with him.

"Great heavens, can it be you, Miss Vernon," cried Frank, when at last
he found words, "in such a spot--at such an hour--in such a lawless
country!"

While Frank was speaking, he was trying to gain a glimpse of her
companion. The man was certainly not Rashleigh. For so much he was
thankful, at least, nor could the stranger's courteous address proceed
from any of the