THE PASS

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVI, Issue 10042, 9 January 1909, Page 6 (Supplement)

THE PASS

(By Bobert W. Chambers.)"

Her map, which at headquarters was supposed to be reliable, had grossly misled her: the road bore east instead of north, dwindling, as she advanced, to a rock path among the foothills. She hadi taken the wrong torn at the forks; there oraa nothing to direct her any further—do landmarks except the general trend of the water-coarse, and the doll cinders of sunset fading to ashes in the west. It was impossible now to turn back; Carrick*6 flying column must be very close on her heels by this time —somewVre yonder in the dusk, paralleling her o~li coarse, with only a dark curtain of forest intervening. So all that evening, and far into the starlit night, sfie struggled doggedly forward, leading her lamed horse over the mountain, dragging him through- laurel thickets, tangles of azalea and- rhododendron, thrashing across the swift mountain streams that tumbled out of starry, pineclad heights, foaming athwart her trail with the rushinc sound of forest winds. For a while the clear radiance of the 6tara lighted the looming mountains; but when wastes of naked rock gave place to ragged woods, lakes and pits of darkness spread suddenly before her; every gully, every ravine brimmed level with treacherous shadows, masking the sheer fall of rock plunging dowsward into fathomless shade. _ . Again and again, as she skirted the unseen edges of destruction, chill winds from unsuspected depths halted her; she dared not light the lantern, dared not ? alt, dared not even hesitate. And so fighting down terror, she toiled on, draging her disabled horse, until, just before <lnwn, the exhat 3ted creature refused to stir another foot. Desperate, breathless, trembling on the verge of exhaustion, with the last remnants of nervous strength she stripped saddle and bridle from the animal; then her nerves gave way and she buried her face against her horse's reeking, heaving fhotilders. "I've got to go on, dear," 6he whispered ; "I'll try to come back to you. . . See what a pretty stream this is," she added balf-hysterically, "and such lot 6 of fresh, sweet grass. . . Oh, my little horse —my little horse! I'm 60 tired—so tired!"' The horse turned his gentle head, mumbling her shoulder with soft, dusty lips; she stifled a sob, lifted saddle, saddlebags and bridle and -carried them up the rock bank of the stream to a little hollow, ere she dropped tliem, unstrapped her revolver and. placed it with them, then drew from the saddle-hags a homespun, gown, sunbonnet and a pair of coarse 6hoee, and laid them out 011 the moss. Fatigue rendered her limbs unsteady; her fingers twitched as ehe fumbled with button and buckle, but at last spurred boots, stockings, jacket and dusty ridingskirt fell from her; undergarments dropped in a circle around lier bare feet; she stepped out of them, paused to twist up her dark hair tightly, then, crossing the moss to the stream's edge, picked her way out among the boulders to the brimming of a pool. In the exquisite shock of the water the blood whipped her skin; fatigue vanished through the crystal magic; shoulder-deep she waded, crimson-cheeked, then let herself drift, afloat, stretching out in ecstasy until every aching muscle thrilled with the delicious reaction. Overhead, tree-swallows darted through a sky of pint.- and saffron, pulsating with the promise of the sun; the tinted peak of a mountain, jaggedly mirrored in the unquiet pool, suddenly glowed crimson., and the reflections ran crisscross through the rocking water, lacing it with fiery needles. She looked like some delicate dawnsprite as she waded ashore—a slender, unreal shape in the rosy glow; while behind her, from the dim ravine, ghost 6 of the mountain mist floated, rising like a company of slim, white angels drifting to the sky. All around her now the sweet, bewildered murmur of purple martire grew into sustained melody; thrush and mockingbird, thrasher and cardinal, sang from every leafy slope; and through the rushing music of bird and' pouring waterfall the fairy drumming of the cock-o'-the-pines rang out in endless, elfin reveille. While she was managing to dry herself and dress, her horse limped off into the grassy swale below to drink in the stream and feed among the tender grasses. Before she drew on the homespun gown she tucked> her linen map into an inner-skirt-pocket, fiat against tier right thigh; then, fastening on the shabby skirt, she rolled up her riding-habit, laid it with lantern, revolver, saddle, bridle, boots and bags, in the hollow and covered all over with heaps of fragrant dead leaves and; branches. It was the best she could do, and the time was short. Her horse raised his wise, gentle head, and looked across the stream at her as she hastened past, then limped stiffly toward her. "Oh, I can't stand it if you hobble after me!" she wailed under her breath; "Dearest—dearest—l will surely come back to you. Good-bye—-good-bye!" On the crest of the ridge she cast one swift, tearful glance behind. The horse, evidently feeling better, was rolling in the grass, all four hoofs waving at the sky. Aind she laughed through the tears, and drew from her pockets a morsel of dry bread which she had saved from the saddle-bags. This she nibbled as she walked, taking her bearings from the sun and the sweep of the southern mountainslopes; and listening, always listening, for the jingle and clank of the Confederate flying battery that was surely following along somewhere on that parallel road which she had missed, hidden from her ■view only by a curtain of forest, the width of which she had no time to investigate. Nor did she know for certain; that she had outstripped the Confederate column in the race for the pass—a desperate race, although the men of that flying column, which was hastening to turn the pass into a pitfall for the North, had not the faintest suspicion that the famous Special Messenger was Tacing with them to forestall them, or even that their secret was no longer a secret. Hot haste from the south hills she had come to warn Benton's division of the ambuscade preparing for it, riding by highway and byway, her heart mouth, taking every perilous chance. And now, at the last moment, here in the West Virginian, mountains, almost within sight of the pass itself, disaster threatened—the human machine was giving out. There were just two chances that Beaton might yet be saved—that his leisurely advance had, by some miracle, already occupied the pass; or, if not, that she could get- through and meet Benton in time to stop him. She had been told that there was a cabin at the pass, and that the mountaineer who lived there was a Union man. Thinking of these things a 6 she crossed the ridge, she came suddenly into full view of the pass. It lay there just below her; there could be no mistake. A 6tony road wound along the stream, flanked by forestclad heights; she recognised the timber i bridge over the ravine, which had been, described to her, the corduroy way across 1 tiie swamp, the single, squat cabin crowning a half-cleared hillock. She realised : at a glance the awful trap that this silent, deadly place could be turned into; for one : rushing moment her widening eyes could almost see blue masses of men in dis- ' order, crushed into that horrible defile; her ears seemed to ring with their deathcries, the rippling roar of rifle-fire. Then, 1 with a sharp, indrawn breath, she hasten- 1 ed forward, taking the descent at a run. ' And at the same moment three gray- ' jacketed cavalrymen, cantered into the ' road below, crossed the timber bridge at 2 a gallop, and disappeared in the pass, j carbines poised. 1 She had arrived a minute too late; the c pass was closed! Toiling breathlessly up the bushy t hillock, crouching, bending, creeping across the stony open where scant grass grew- in a meagre garden, she reached the a cabin. It was empty; a fire smouldered s under a kettle in which potatoes were boiling; ash-cakes crisped on the hearth, i bacon sizzled in a frypan set close to the embers. n Rut wjhere was tbe tenant! ii A shoot from the road below brought a her to the door; then she dropped flat y on her stomach, crawled forward and look- n ed over the dope. A red-haired old man, in his shirt- gi {decree, carrying a fishing-pole, was run- w'

ning down the road, chased by two grayjacketed troopers. He Tan well, throwing away his pole and the string of slimy fish he had been carrying; but, half-way across the stream, they rode him down and caught him, driving their horses straight mto the shallow flood; and! a few moments later a fresh 6C[uad of cavalry trotted up, forced the prisoner to mount a led horse, and, surrounding him, galloped rapidly away southward. The Special Messenger lay perfectly still and flat, watching, listening, waiimg, coolly alert for a shadow of a chance to slip out and through the pass; but there was to be no such chance now, for a dozen troopers came into view, T-iirrmn-r- their lean horses at top speed, and wheeled straight into the' pass. A full squadron followed, their solid galloping waking drumming echoes among the rocks. Then her delicate ears caught a distant, ominous sound—nearer, louder, ringing, thudding, jarring, pounding—the racket of field artillery arriving at full speed'.' And into sight daohed a flying battery, guns and limbers bouncing and thumping, whips cracking, chains crashing, the sixhorse teams on a dead run. An officer drew bridle and threw his horse on its haunches; the first team rushed' on to the pass with a clash and clank of wheels and chains, swung wide in a demi-tour, dropped a dully glistening gun, and then came trampling back. The second, third, and fourth teams, guns and caissons, swerved to the right of the hillock and came plunging up the bushy slope, horses straining and, scrambling, trampling through the wretched garden to the level grass above. One by one tbe gun-teams swung in a half-circle, each dropped its mud-spattered gun, tbe cannoneers sprang to unhook the trails, the frantic, half-maddened horses were lashed to the rear. The Special Messenger rose quietly to her feet, and then a passing cannoneer turned and saw her in the doorway. "Hey!" he exclaimed; '"what you-all doin' thar?" A very young major, spurring up the slope, saw her, too. _ "This won't do!" he began excitedly, pushing his sweating horse up to the door. "I'm sorry, but it won't do— —" He hesitated, perplexed, eying this slim, darkeyed girl, who stood as though dazed there in her ragged homespun and naked' feet. Colonel Carrick, passing at a canter, turned in his saddle, calling out: "Major Kent ! Keep that women here! It's too late to 6end her back." The boy major saluted, then turned to the girl again: "Who are you?'.' he asked, vexed. She seemed unable to reply. A cannoneer said 1 respectfully : "Reckon the li'J gal's jes natch'ally skeered o' weuns, Major, seein' how the caval'y ketched her paw down thar in the crick." The Major said briefly: "Your father is a Union man, but nobody is going to hurt him. I'd send you to the rear, too, but there's no time now. Please go in and 6hut that door. I'll see that nobody disturbs you." As she was closing the door the young Major called after her: "Where's the well?" As she did not know she only stared at him as though terrified. "All right," he 6aid, more gently. "Don't be frightened!. I'll come back and talk to you in a little while." As she shut the door she saw the cannon at the pass limber up, wheel, and go bumping up the hill to rejoin its bespattered fellows on the knoll. An artilleryman came along and dropped a bundlie of picks and shovels which he was carrying to "the gunners, who haid begun the emplacements; the boyish Major dismounted, subduing his excitement with a dignified frown; and for a while he was very fnssy and very busy, aiding the battery captain in placing the guns and verifying the depression. The position of the masked battery was simply devilish; every gun l , hidden, completly in the oak-scrub, was now trained on the pass. Opposite, across the stream, long files of gray infantry were moving to cover among the trees; behind, a battalion arrived to support the guns; below, the cavalry had begun to leave the pass; troopers, dismounted, were carefully removing from the road all traces of their arrival. Leaning there by the window, the Special Messenger counted the returning fours as troop after troop retired southward and disappeared round' the bend of the road. For a while the picks and shovels of the noisily; concealed riflemen, across the creek, were also busy entrenching. But by noon all sound had ceased in the sunny ravine; there was nothing to be seen from below; not a human voice echoed • not a pick-stroke; onlv the sweet, rushing sound of the stream filled the silence; only the shadows of ths branches moveu. Warned again by the sentinels to close the battered window and keep the door shut, she still watched the gunners, through the dirty panes, wheTe they now lay under the bushes baside their guns. There was no conversation among them; 6ome sprawled belly up in the ferns, chewing twigs or idly scraping holes in the soil; a few lay about, eating the remnants of the morning's scanty rations, chewing strips of bacon rind, and licking the last crumbs from the palms of their grimy hands. Along the bush-hidden parapet of earth, heaps of ammunition lay—canister and common shell. She recognised these, and, with a shudder, a long row of smaller projectiles on which soldiers were screwing copper caps—hand-grenades, brought in by and: fashioned to explode on impact—so close was to be the coming slaughter of her own people in the road below. Toward one o'clock the gunners were served noon rations. She watched them eating for a while, then, nerveless, turned back into the single room of the cabin and opened the rear door—so gently and' noiselessly that the boyish staff major who was seated on the sill did not glance around until she spoke, asking his permission to remain. "You mustn't open that door," he said, looking up, surprised by the sweetness of the voice which he heard now for the first time. "How can anybody see me from the pass!" she asked innocently. "That is what you are afraid of, isn't it?" _ He shot a perplexed and slightly suspicious glance at her, then the frowning importance faded from his beardless face ; he bit a piece of the soggy corncake he was holding and glanced at her again, amiably conscious of her attractions; besides, her voice and manner had been a revelation. Evidently hex father had had her educated at some valley school remote from these raw solitudes. "Have you lived- here very long?" he asked encouragingly. "Not very," she said, her eyes downcast, her clasped hands lying loosely ovct one knee. The soft, creamy-tinted fingers occupied his attention for a moment; the hand resembled the hand of "quality"; so did the ankle and delicate arch of her naked foot, half-imprisoned in the coarse shoe under her skirt's edge. He had often heard that some of these mountaineers had pretty children; here, evidently, was a most fascinating example. "Is your mother living?" he asked pleasantly. "No, sir." He thought to himself that she must resemble her dead mother, because the man whom the cavalry had caught m the creek was a coarse-boned, red-headed ruffian, quite impossible to reconcile as the father of this dark-haired, dark-eyed young foTest creature, with her purelymoulded limbs and figure and sensitive fashion of speaking. He turned to her curiotisly. "So you have not always lived here on the mountain?" "No, not always." "I suppose 'you 6pent a whole year away from home at boarding-school?" he suggested with patronising politeness. "Yes, six years at Edgewood," she said in a low voice. "What?" he exclaimed, repeating the name of the most fashionable Southern institute for yopng ladies. "Why, I had : a 6ister there—Margaret Kent. Were jrou there? And did you ever—er—see ; my sister?" _ 3 "I knew her," said the Special Messenger absently. He was very silent for a < rhile, thinking to himself; f

„. "It. most have been her mother.; thatmeasly old mail we caught in the creek is 'poor white" ail through." And, munching thoughtfully again on his soggy jcorncake, he pondered over the strange fate Qf this fascinating young girl, fashioned "to "slay the hearts of Southern chivalry—£.O young, so sweet, bo soft of voice and manner, condemned to live life through alone dn this shaggy solitude—-fated, doubtless, to mate with some loose, lank, shambling, hawk-eye.! rustic of the peaks ■—doomed., to bear sickly children, and to fade andi dry and wither in the full 6pringt:d-2 oi her youth and; loveliness. -It's too bad," he said fretfully, unconscious that he spoke aloud, unaware, too, that 6he had risen and was moving idly with bent head iamong the weeds of the truck .-garden—edging nearer, nearer, to a 'dark, round object about the size of a very small apple which had rolled into a furrow, where the ground was all cut up i by the wheel-tracks of the artillery and hoofs of heavy horses. Ihere was scarcely a chance that she could pick it up unobserved; her ragged 6kirts covered' it; she bent forward as though to tie her shoe, but a sentinel was watching her, so she straightened up carelessly and stood, hands on her hips, dragging one foot idly to and fro, until sne had covered the small round object with , sand and gravel. ' That object was a loaded French nandi grenade, fitted with percussion primer; ; and it lay. last at the end of a long row i of similar grenades the shaded side ■ of the house. The sentry in the bushes had been watching her ; and now he came out along the edge of the laurel tangle, apparently to warn her away, but seeing a staff officer 60 near her, he halted, satisfied that | authority had been responsible for her ; movements. Besides, he had not noticed that a grenade was missing; neither had the Major, who rose and sauntered to- ' wards her, balancing his field-glasses in one hand. "There's ammunition under these bushes," he said pleasantly; "don't go nearer, please. Those grenades might ex--1 plode if any one stumbled over them. They're bad things to handle." i "Will there be a battle here?" she asked, recoiling from the deadly little ' bombs. "There will probably be a skirmish. I do not dare let vou this spot until. 1 the first shot is fired. But as soon as you hear it you had better run as fa6t as vou can" —he pointed with his field-glasses —"to that little ridge over there, and lie down behind the rocks on the other side. Do you remember?" "Yes, I think so." "And you'll lie there very still until it is—over ?" "I understand. May Igo immediately - and hide there?" "Not yet," he said gently. "Why?" . . "Because your father is a Union man. .... And you are Union, too, are you not?" "Yes," she Bald, smiling; are you. > afraid of me?" s A slight flush Btained.his smooth, sunburnt skin; then he laughed. ' "A little afraid," he admitted ; "I find you dangerous, but not- in the way you mean. I —l do not mean to offend you—" But she 6miled audaciously at him, looking prettier than ever; and his heart gave a surprised little jump at her unsus- : pected capabilities. "Why aTe. you afraid of me?" she ' asked, loking at him with her engaging little smile. In her eyes a bewitching ' -brightness sparkled, partly veiled by the lone lashes ; and she laughed again, poised t there in the sunshine, hands on her hips, > delicately provoking his reply^ L And', crossing the chasm wftich her eo- ■ quetry had already bridged, he paid her l the quick, reckless, boyish compliment she i invited—a little flowery, perhaps, pos- . sibly a trifle stilted, but very Southern; I and she shrugtred like a spoiled court beauty, nose uptilted, and swept him with i a' glance from half-closed lids, almost in- . Eolent. I The sentry in the holly-and-lauxel thicket stared hard at- them both. And i he saw his Major break off a snowy : Cherokee rose, and, bending at- his slim, . sashed waist, nresent the blossom with ■ the courtly air inbred through many gene- ; rations; and he 6aw a ragged mountaineer girl accept it with all the dainty and fas- . tidious mockery of a coquette of the golden age, and pin it where her faded bodice «lged the creamy skin of her breast. ! What the young Major said to her after that, bending nearer and nearer, the sentry could not hear, for the 3lajor's voice was very low, and the slow, smiling reply was lower still. But the Major straightened as though he had been shot through and through, ; and bowed and walked away among the • weeds towards a group of officers under the trees, who were steadily watching the i rass through thsir levelled field-glasses. Once the Major turned around to look back, once she turned on the threshold. . Her cheeks were pinker, her eyes sparkled. The emotions of the Special Messenger were rather easily excited. But when she had closed the door and leaned wearily against it, the color soon faded from her face and the sparkle died out in her dark eyes. Pale, alert, intelli- , gent, she stood there, minute after minute, searching the single room with anxious, purposeless eyes; then, driven into restless motion by the torturing tension of . anxiety, 6he paced the loose boards like a* tigress, np and down, head lowered, worrying the small fingers with the edge ■ of her teeth. Outside, through dirty window-glass • she could see sentries in the bushes, all ; looking steadily in the same direction; groups of officers the trees still focussed their glasses on the pass. By-and-bye she saw some riflemen in butternut jeans climb into trees, rifles slung across their backs, and disappear far up in the foliage, still climbing. Towards five o'clock, as she was eating the bacon and hot-cakes which she had found in the hut, two infantry officers ! opened the door, stared at her, then, without ceremony, drew a rough ladder from the cornea:, set it outside, and the older officer climbed' to the roof. She heard him call' down to the lieutenant below: "No use; I can't see any better up here. .... They ought to set a signalman on that rock, yonder!" Other officers came over; one or two spoke respectfully to her, but, she did not answer. Finally they all cleared out; and she dragged a bench to the back door, which 6wung open a little way, and, alert against surprise, very cautiously drew from the inner pocket her linen contourmap and studied it, glancing every second or two out through the crack in the door. Nobody disturbed her; with hesitating forefinger she traced out what pretended to be! a path dominating the northern entrance of the pass, counted the watercourses and gullies crossing the ascent, tried to fix the -elevations in her mind. As long as she dared she studied the soiled map, but, presently, a quick shadow fell across the threshold, and she thru6fc the map into the concealed pocket and sprang to open the door." "Coming military events cast foreboding shadows," she said, somewhat breathless. "Am I a foreboding and military event?" asked the youthful Major, laughing. "What do I threaten, please?" "Single combat," she said demurely, smiling at him under half-veiled lids. And the same little thrill passed through him again, and the quick color lose to hie smooth, sunburnt face. "'I was ready to beat a retreat on sight," he said; "now I surrender." "I make,no prisoners," she replied in airy disdain. "You give no quarter?" ' '"None., v. . Why did you come back?" "You said I might." "Did I? I had quite forgotten what I said to you. When are you going to let me go?" - His face fell, and he looked up at her troubled. 'Tm afraid you don't understand," he 6aid. "We dare not send »"u away under escort now, because- horse s feet make a noise, and some prowling fjnfcee vidette at this very moment may 1 e hangingabout the pass " "Oh," she said, "you prefer to let me remain here and he shot?" He said, reddening: "At the flist tolley you are to go with an escort across the ridge. I told you that, didn't IVBut she remained scornful, mace, and 1 obstinate, pretty head bent,-twisting the < folds of her faded skirt, ]

"Do you-think-it would' <et \ou rMjiinn hers if there were any j ( be asked in a lower voice. "How long am I to be kept here?" 6he asked pettishly. _ "Until the Yankees come through—ani I can't tell yon when that will De, because I don't know myself. ' "Are they in the pass?" . "We don't know. Everybody is >*- .: pinning to be worried. We can t see very j far into that ravine—: —" "Then why don't you go where yau i&n see?" she said with a shrug. "Where?" he asked,'surprised. "Didn't you know that there is a path above the pass?" "A path?" "Certainly. I can show you if you wish. You ought to be able to eee to tho. north end'-of the pass—if lam not J "Wait a moment I" , he said excitedly. "I want. you to take me there—just a ■ second, to speak to those officers—l'm coming , back immediately '■ And he started on a run across the ravaged garden, holding his 6abre close, midway, by" the scabbard. i'hat was her chance. Picking Up her faded sunbonnet, she stepped from; th« threshold, swinging it carelessly by " one string. The sentries were looking after the Major; she dropped' her. sunbonnet, stooped to recover it, and straightened Up, ths hidden hand-grenade slipping from the crown of the bonnet into her bodice. A thousand eyes Beemed watching Mir, as, a trifle palej she strolled on aimlessly, swinging the recovered sunbonnet; she listened, shivering, f°* the stern" challenge to halt, the breathless shout of accusation, the pursuing trample of heavy boots. And at last, quaking in every limb, she featured to lift her eyes. Nobody Esemfed to be looking her way; the artillery pickets were still watching the pass; the group of officers posted under the trees_ still focUssed their glasses in that direction; the young Major was already returning across the garden toward her. . A sharp throb of hope set her pulses bounding—she had, safe in her bosom, the means of warning her own people now ; all she needed was a safe conduct from that knoll, and here it was coming, brought by this eager, boyish officer, hastening so' blithely towards her, his long, dark shadow clinging like death to his spurred heels as he ran. Would she guide him to some spot where it was possible to see the whole length of the pass? She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and turned, he at her side, into the woods. If her map was not betTaying her once more the path must follow the edges of the pass, high u>p among those rocks and. trees somewhere. There was only one vr&y of finding it—to climb Upwatd to the bvtsr- . hanging ledges. . . ■ Raising net eves toward the. leafy heights, it seemed to her incredible that any path could lead along that Wall of rofek, which leaned 'outward over the ravine. . But somehow she must mount there; somehow she must manage to remain there unmolested, ready, the moment a single Union vedette cantered into the pass, to hurl her explosive messenger into the depths below—a startling but unmistakable signal to that blue column advancing so unsuspiciously into that defile, of hell. Ah they clambered upward together, through the holly-scrub, she remembered that she must not slip, for the iron weight in her bosom would endure no rough caress from rock or earth. How heavy it was —hot hot and rough, chafing her body—this little iron sphere, a dozen deaths sealed up in it! Toiling upward, planting her roughlyshod feet with fearful precision, 6he tried to imagine what it would bo like if the tiny bomb in her bosom exploded—tried to picture her terrified soul tearing skyward out of bodily annihilation. "It is curious," she thought with a slight shudder, "how afraid I always am —how deeply, deeply afraid of death. God knows why I go on." The boy beside her found the ascent difficult ; spurs and sabre impeded' him; once he lurched heavily against her, and his quick apology was cut short by the pallor of her face, for she was dreadfully afraid of the bomb. "Did I hurt you?" - he falteied, impulsively laying his hand on her arm. She shivered and shook off his hand, forcing a gay smile. And they went on together, upward, always upward, her pretty, provocative eyes meeting his at intervals, her heart beating faster, death at her breast. He was a few yards ahead when he 1 called back to her in a low, warning voice that he had found a path, and Eh© hastened up the rocks to where he stood. Surely here was a trail winding along the very edge of the ledges, under masses of overhanging rock —some dizzy dunway of prehistoric man, perhaps trodden, too, by wolf and panther, and. later by the lank mountaineer hunter or smuggler creeping to some aerie .unsuspected by any living creature save, perhaps, the silverheaded eagles soaring through the fathomless azure vault above. . Below, the pass lay, but they could see no farther into it at first. However, as they advanced, cautiously, clinging to the outjutting cliff, which seemed maliciously striving to push them out into space, by degrees crag and trail turned westward and more of the pass came into view—a wide, smooth cleft in the mountain, curving away toward the north. A few steps more and the trail ended abruptly in a wide, grassy space set with trees, sloping away gently to the west, chopped off sheer to the east, where it terminated in a mossy shelf overlooking tha lavine. Only a few rods away the dusk of the pass was cut by a glimmer of sunlight; it was the northern entrance. Something else wasi glimmering theTe, too; dozens of dancing points of white fire—sunshine on buckle, button, bit and sabre. And the officer beside her uttered a low, fierce cry, and jerked his fieldglasses free from the case. "Their cavalry!" he breathed. "So heli me God,' the Yankees are entering the pass!" And he drew his revolver. So help him God! Something dark and round flew across his line of vision, curving out into space, dropping, dropping into the, depth below. A clattering report, a louder racket as the rocky echoes, crossing and recroesing, struck back at the clamoring cliffs. ' So help him God! . Half-stunned, he stumbled to his feet, Bis dazed eyes still blurred with a vision of horsemen, vaguely seen through vapors, stampeding northward ;.-and, at the same instant, she sprang at him, striking the drawn ! revolver from his hand, tearing the sabre free, and flinging it into the gulf. White-faced', desperate, she clung to Kim with the tenacity of a lynx, winding her lithe limbs around and under his, tripping Him ito his knees. Over and over they rolled, struggling in the gTass, twisting,. straining, slipping down the westward slope. ; . "You-—devil!" he panted, as her dark eyes flashed level with. his. "I've got you —anyhow " - - Her up-flung elbow, fixed 1 like a steel .wedge, caught,him in the throat-; they fell over the low ridge, wiithing in each other's embrace, down the slope, over andover, faster, faster—crack!—his head struck a ledge, and he straightened out, quivering, then lay very, very still and heavy in her arms. "Trembling, fiercely excited, she tore strips from her skirt, twisted them, forced him over on his face, and tied his wrists fast.. Then, leaving him inert there on the ' mo6s, she ran back for his revolver, found , it, opened : it, liiade certain that the cylinder was full, and, flinging one last, glance down the. pass, hastened back to her prisoner. _ ; . Her prisoner was sitting up, white as a ' ghost, the dark bruise •on his forehead ( growing redder and wetter.'. ' . ' "Stand up!" she 6aid cocking her urea- 1 pon. - . ' * I The boy, half stupefied, struggled! to his ' knees, then managed to rise. -i "Go forward along that paith!" For a full minute he stood erect, mo- J tionless, eyes fixed in hatred on her; then 1 a dull flush stained him to the temples ; 1 he turned 1 , head bent; and walked forward, wrists tightly tifed .behind him. ( And behind him, weapon swinging, fol- 1 lowed 1 the Special Messenger in her rags, < Tjallid, dishevelled, her eyes dim with ) tears. " - • ' i • s