Saying this, he relapsed into silence, and the other fell back on the rear to give the orders for the night. Harry waited until the last of the band had passed his place of concealment, and faded from sight in the direction of the proposed stopping-place for the night; and then, as if satisfied with the result of his plan, he again took the backward trail to wait at the appointed place young Seaton, and his band, if he should succeed in raising them. Morning broke upon the forest with unusual freshness and beauty. The dew sparkled on the young grass—the birds caroled sweetly from the trees—the streamlet went leaping on its way in gladness, and sending its music out into the sunny air as if the spirit of rejoicing sat upon its tiny waves. It was yet early morning when our scene opens in the camp of the outlaws. Here all was bustle and excitement. Men could be seen gathered in groups in low conversation, as if some event of more than usual interest was about to take place. In the centre of the encampment could be seen two persons we have heretofore described. They were seated some distance apart; the brother being fastened to a tree in a sitting posture, with his hands confined to his side, while the sister was suffered to remain unbound, but subject to a strict guard. He was already doomed to death, and that the shameful one of the gibbet. Bitter as was the pang at being cut off in the bloom of life, when the road to fame was open to his view, and when his suffering and bleeding country called aloud on all her sons for aid in this desperate contest. Still this was nothing for him. But then his sister, and that sister the witness of a father’s murder, was now a captive, and at the mercy of that father’s murderer—this made the doom doubly bitter. And there at his side sat that sister mute and tearless, for the dreadful scenes through which she had passed seemed to have shut up the fountains of her grief, while he who should have been her protector was now helpless as herself. These were the thoughts that were coursing through his mind when the leader of the band approached the spot where he was confined. If ever vice and malignity had chosen a resting-place, the face of that man was their home; and now as he gazed upon the consummation of all his long-cherished plans of lust and vengeance, the time for which he had hoarded up the passion of years, his look assumed the aspect of a demon. Calmly he gazed upon the captives, as preparing himself for the outbreak, and then advancing still nearer, he said— “Do you accept my proposals, or must I compel you to that you cannot now avoid?” This was addressed to Emma Wilson. “Accept this hand, and your brother lives; refuse me, and he dies upon the tree before an hour.” What answer Emma would have given is unknown, as at this moment her brother caught the question, and turning to the ruffian, he answered—