himself and for his horse at a sheltered spot by the roadside, where a spring poured its little stream of water into the tiny brook that for a time followed the same course he was pursuing.
As soon as he had quenched his thirst, he threw himself at full length upon the ground, while he permitted his wearied horse to obtain a brief respite as it cropped the grass and bushes by the side of the road. It was good to have a brief rest, he assured himself, and as he glanced for a moment at the sun he was confident that within two hours his letter would be safely delivered into the hands of General Clinton himself. A smile of satisfaction crept over his face at the thought, and somehow the peacefulness of the scene about him imparted something of its own charm to his feelings. Claud Brown and his evil comrades were for the time like the figures seen in a dream. Even the shrill cries of the counterfeiter were unreal. Jacob Gunning's anger and his determination to devote himself to running down the band of cowboys assumed somewhat more distinct form in view of the task of the unknown man and his seven comrades who had seized the huge Josh and the counterfeiter at the latter's home; but all
