"Noreen!"
"Is it really you? I could not tell—the horse; the something across the saddle."
She came forward with a swift spring, not satisfied until her hand actually touched me.
"Oh, I am so glad—you are not even hurt?"
"Not seriously; battered up a bit—Nichols?"
"Yes, he is here; there beside the tree. Tell me what has happened! What have you here? Why it is a man," she shrank back, "a—a dead man!"
"No, not dead," I hastened to explain, unbuckling the belt, and lowering the still limp body to the ground. "Here, parson, don't let the horse stray. We cannot waste many minutes here; there are cavalrymen scouting the edge of the ravine yonder, and they may come as far as this. That is why I brought the fellow along—to keep him from being found. Do you recognize the face, Noreen?"
It was dark and shadowy where we were and she was compelled to bend low to distinguish the features. Her lips gave a startled, half-suppressed cry:
"Why it is Lieutenant Raymond! You—you fought together? How did he come here?"
"I think he suspected we might manage to escape from the church. He was more anxious to capture me than he was to fight evidently, for I caught no
