While Uncle Lawrence had been marshaling the expedition, Major Gordon had thrown himself on Selim, and galloped to Sweetwater, with the faint hope that Kate might have been released, or made good her escape. Early as it was, he found Mrs. Warren already up. The good lady, as we have seen, had not slept a wink; and, just before the Major's arrival, she had been summoned to interrogate Pomp, who, to the amazement of all, had suddenly appeared, leading Arab captive.

The lad, of course, suppressed his fright, but said, that not hearing anything of Kate on the road to Mr. Herman's, but observing the tracks of what he thought her horse, he had followed down the river, by unfrequented paths, till about nightfall, when, passing a small cabin, he had been surprised to hear Arab whinney, from a shed that was apparently used for a cow-stable.

"When I hears dat," said he, "I goes up to de door, and axes ef dey wouldn't let me stay all night, telling 'em I'd lost my way, and was afeerd of de refugees. Dey said I might, ef I'd sleep in de barn; and guv me some cold pork. De minnit I goes in de stable, Arab he knew me, and lays his nose agin me, as ef he'd been a kitten, deed he did. I got in among de salt hay, and begun to snore dre'ful loud; but I wasn't asleep for all dat. By'm bye, when de moon rose, I gits up, saddles de colt, takes Arab by de halter, and here I is." And he looked around, not a little proud of his exploit, while Dinah, hugging him in her arms, sobbed over her recovered boy.

It was at this juncture that Major Gordon arrived. Mrs. Warren, in dishabille, her hair all dishevelled, no sooner saw him, than she rushed forward, frantically asking if he had brought back Kate. The Major, who had hoped, as we have seen, to find Miss Aylesford at Sweetwater, was not less disappointed than the anxious aunt; but he controlled his feelings better, and considerately forbore informing

Mrs. Warren either of the terrible situation of her niece, or of Aylesford's death. A fit of hysterics almost immediately seized the now heart-broken woman, in which condition, time being precious, the Major was compelled to leave her, in order to reach the rendezvous.

The

Uncle Lawrence was waiting for him on his return. little party set forth immediately, the veteran leading the way to the refugee's hut, almost in a straight line.

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE PURSUIT.

A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch

Incapable of pity, void and empty

From ev'ry drachm of mercy.-Shakspeare.

Spare not the babe,

Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy.-Shakspeare.

THE astonishment of Arrison, when he discovered the

escape of Kate, was only equaled by his rage. not the first, however, to detect her flight.

He was

Having resisted

longer than the

the influence of the last night's potations rest, he slept sounder than some of the others, and was still lost in a deep stupefying slumber, when one of the gang waking, and looking around, as he sat up on the floor, started to observe the door of the inner chamber open.

"Hello!" he cried, rubbing his eyes, to be sure that he beheld aright. "The bird's flown."

With the words, he sprang to his feet, and advancing hastily to the chamber, leaned over Arrison's recumbent body, and looked in. His suspicions were immediately

verified. Their prisoner was gone. The discovery struck him in so ludicrous a light, that he burst into uproarious laughter.

This loud mirth roused all the sleepers, Arrison among the rest.

"What do you mean?" cried the latter, leaping to his feet, and collaring the laugher. "What are you doing here ?"

Arrison, still confused in intellect, and not yet comprehending the truth, had seized his comrade, by instinct, on finding the refugee so near Kate's chamber.

"Ha ha!" continued the youth, unable to restrain his merriment, "to think she's flown, after I nailed fast her window too."

"Who's flown?" angrily cried Arrison, shaking the youth violently; while, with an oath, he added, as he now first observed the open door, "You don't mean to say Miss Aylesford's gone."

The youth stopped laughing, and breaking loose by a sudden effort, answered, with a flushed and angry face,

"Take care who you collar, Captain; I'm not a nigger." And as Arrison rushed into the chamber, he muttered, sulkily, "I'm not sorry she's gone; for he was goin' to make all for himself there was to be made; takin' the oyster and leaving us the shell."

A rapid glance satisfied Arrison that his prey had really escaped, and he came back, perfectly white with rage, just in time to hear the concluding murmurs of the youth, though without being able to make out what was being said.

"What's that you're muttering, you mutinous rascal?" he shouted, darting on the speaker. "I believe you had a hand in it. She couldn't have got off alone."

The youth sprang nimbly to one side, just in time to elude the grasp of his enraged leader, and interposing the table between himself and Arrison, drew his knife.

"Keep off," he cried, "or I'll drive this into you, Captain or no Captain. Say that again, if you dare. It was your own stupidity, in getting drunk, not drawing the bolt on this side, and sleeping like a log of wood, that let the girl off."

He flourished his weapon as he spoke, and glared at Arrison with such savageness, that the latter, heated as he was with passion, paused. Before either could make any new movement, and while they watched each other like two angry tigers, the lieutenant, whom we have seen so active the preceding day, rushed between them.

"Captain, you're too quick," he cried; "Bill, put up your knife; the Captain's hardly awake. If the gal's really gone," he continued, more composedly, "the best thing to do is to put after her; she can't have got far; and with that hound of yours," and he turned to Arrison,

to be able to track her to hell itself."

66

we ought

I meant no offence," said Bill, who was easily mollified, as men of his disposition usually are. "But when I found she'd got off, by walking right through this 'ere room, I couldn't help thinking it a good joke. She's a gal of mettle, anyhow." And he laughed again, in spite of Arrison's scowling brow, and the lieutenant's significant winks.

Arrison, now that he had time to reflect, saw that Bill spoke the truth, and though the youth's laughter galled him, he could not resent it further. The ties which held his followers to him, were wholly voluntary, and he feared, if he persisted in wreaking his vengeance on Bill, that a real mutiny might arise; for the lad was a general favorite, as he always told the merriest tale, was continually joking to beguile the time, and generally was the life of the gang, socially. So the chief answered, smothering his rage,

"I was but half awake, that's a fact. The jade's had no one to help her but herself; and Bill must forget what I

said." He held out his hand as he concluded, which the youth took and shook in token of restored amity.

"That's all I ask, Captain," replied Bill. "I don't wonder you're a little riled, for if she'd been mine, as she was yourn, I'd have fell on the first feller I saw, when I woke and found her gone, so infernally rampaging mad would I have been. She'll be lucky if she gets away; for them ere swamps aint so easy for a stranger."

But the wrath which Arrison could not discharge on Bill, found vent on the helpless child, his reputed niece. It suggested itself to him, at this point, that the bloodhound must have been roused by Kate's escape; that the child must have interposed to quiet the dog; and that thus his prey had succeeded in escaping. Scarcely had the speaker ceased, therefore, before Arrison rushed out, and entering the barn, where the child still lay asleep, grasped her rudely by the arm, and jerked her to her feet.

Terrified, and as yet but half awake, the poor thing began to tremble violently; and seeing Arrison's face distorted with rage, burst into tears, exclaiming,

"Oh! don't-please don't-"

But the ruffian, shaking her violently, she could not proceed; and so remained sobbing and choaking, piteously supplicating him with her eyes.

"You jade," he cried, "I'll shake the breath out of you to some purpose. You little liar, don't dare to say you didn't do it."

"I didn't say it," gasped the child. "Please don't, ple-e-ase-"

But again he shook her, till it seemed that her little limbs would be rent apart; and her touching words of pleading ended in inarticulate murmurings. When he had fairly exhausted himself by this brutal exhibition of passion, he stopped, and holding her before him, as in a vice, said,