The moon was rising higher, and its light becoming clearer and more silvery. The boats were unloaded, and the sailors were pulling them back to the ship, when the girls saw Hugh Knollys coming toward them from the beach; and at sight of him they turned to flee. "I must go to the house with you two, Mary;" and John Devereux laid a detaining hand upon her arm, bidding Dorothy wait a moment. "No need for that," she said quickly, fearing that Hugh might accompany them; "we are not afraid." But John called out to Knollys,--speaking very carefully, for it still seemed as though each rock or bush might be concealing a spying enemy--asking him to go to the Black Hole in charge of the men, as he himself must first hurry to the house, to rejoin them later. Hugh turned back, and the three took their way through the woods, Dorothy keeping ahead and the others walking closely together just behind her. "Mary," John said presently, and his voice was tremulous as a woman's, "I can scarcely believe it." "Hush!" she whispered warningly. But pressing her hand, he said, "Dot knows all about it." And he laughed softly, while Mary's cheeks burned, and she was silent. Then he added: "You see, I have been under such a strain, so filled with anxious thoughts, that I well-nigh lost my senses when I landed on the beach, and knew you were near me, and heard your voice. Then, afterwards, I was so shocked by Dot's prank when I came upon her by the rocks, that it is just coming to me what the child has done. It was a brave deed; and but for her doing it, who can say what might have happened--brave little girl!" The slight figure was too far ahead of their lagging footsteps to be reached by his words. Indeed they could not see her at all through the gloom of the woods, although they could hear now and again her light footfall, or the cracking of a twig as she stepped upon it. "She thinks you are displeased with her prank," Mary said, "and I'm sure she feels very unhappy about it." "She shall not feel so very long," he replied heartily. They found her waiting for them at the back door of the house, ready to put the key into the lock. But before she could do this her brother put his arms about her and kissed her fondly. "Brave little girl!" he whispered. "'T is you who have saved the arms and powder for the town." To his amazement she burst into tears and clung to him, sobbing and trembling like a child. "Why, Dot, whatever is it?" he asked anxiously, lowering his voice so as not to arouse the inmates of the house. "She is suffering from a reaction, I think," Mary said softly; "but it will soon pass away." But Dorothy was of too dauntless a spirit for her brother to be content with this explanation; and holding her close in his arms, he went on assuring her that he was not displeased, but that she had done a brave act, and that every one would say the same if the news of it should get abroad.