and nobody the wiser.  Does thee hear, friend?  Do but thee own part in this endeavour well, and we will save the young and tender maid thee calls madam.  Take theeself to the pound, which thee may do safely, by following the hill:  pick out four good horses, fleet and strong, and carry them safely away, going up the valley,—­mind, friend, thee must go up, as if thee was speeding thee way to the Big Lake, instead of to Kentucky:  then, when thee has ridden a mile, thee may cross the brook, and follow the hills, till thee has reached the hiding-place that we did spy from out upon this village.  Thee hears, friend?  There thee will find the fair maid, Edith; which I will straightway fetch out of her bondage.  And, truly, it may be, I have learned that, this night, which will make both her and the young man thee calls Captain, which is a brave young man, both rich and happy.  And now, friend, thee has heard me; and thee must do thee duty.”

“If I don’t fetch her the beautifullest hoss that war ever seed in the woods,” said Ralph, “thar’s no reason, except because the Injuns ar’n’t had good luck this year in grabbing!  And I’ll fetch him round up the holler, jist as you say too, and round about till I strike the snuggery, jist the same way; for thar’s the way you show judgematical, and I’m cl’ar of your way of thinking.  And so now, h’yar’s my fo’-paw, in token thar’s no two ways about me, Ralph Stackpole, a hoss to my friends, and a niggur to them that sarves me!”

With these words, the two associates, equally zealous in the cause in which they had embarked, parted, each to achieve his own particular share of the adventure, in which they had left so little to be done by the young Virginian.

But, as it happened, neither Roland’s inclination nor fate was favourable to his playing so insignificant a part in the undertaking.  He had remained in the place of concealment assigned him, tortured with suspense, and racked by self-reproach, for more than an hour:  until, his impatience getting the better of his judgment, he resolved to creep nigher the village, to ascertain, if possible, the state of affairs.  He had arrived within earshot of the pair, and without overhearing all, had gathered enough of their conversation to convince him that Edith was at last found, and that the blow was now to be struck for her deliverance.  His two associates separated before he could reach them; Ralph plunging among the bushes that covered the hill, while Nathan, as before, stalked boldly into the village.  He called softly after the latter, to attract his notice; but his voice was lost in the gusts sweeping along the hill; and Nathan proceeded onwards, without heeding him.  He hesitated a moment whether to follow, or return to his station, where little Peter, more obedient, or more prudent than himself, still lay, having resolutely refused to stir at the soldier’s invitation to accompany him; until finally, surrendering his discretion to his