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"Borrowed!" echoed the sergeant. "If he doesn't own that mare no man does."

Old Dismukes rose. "Good-night. Shall I send this boy that Yankee's horse?"

"A short three miles."

"Why, who and what should I be?"

"I naturally thought," resumed I, with a smile meant to refer to the blond dancer, "that the madam must be away somewhere."

"Well, I reckon I'll stop all night." I began to move on. His eyes followed greedily.

It was idle; a magic seems to shield a captive's leap for life. Away across the corn he went to the edge of a tangled wood, over the fence there again, and into the brush. "Halt! bang!" and "Halt! bang!" it was, at every bound, but now the pursuers came back empty-handed, some contemptuously silent, some laughing. Ferry glanced again at the time, and I was having within me a quarrel with him for his indifference at the prisoner's escape, when with cold severity he asked--

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