So when they saw the girl it was not a question of what they wanted from her, but only, would there be anyone to witness the act? Their eyes searched ahead and behind, to either side, then fixed resolutely on the girl. Mary observed all of this, but stood rooted to the spot in fear and disbelief. Surely they could not want her like this, pale and distraught. Surely they had some conscience. The two riders stopped just in front of her, addressing each other as if she did not exist. "What d'ya think?" said the first in a heavy cockney. He was a smallish, heavy-set man with a nondescript face and yellow teeth. "Would be a fine catch, and no mistake." His companion, a lean, dour-looking man with drooping red moustaches, did not at first reply, but only continued to stare at the object in question. "I think," he said at length, dismounting. "That I want you to hold my horse." The smaller man laughed harshly, and spurred his own steed forward to take hold of the reins. "Just be sure ya save some for me," he said. "I don't fancy ridin' a dead horse." The red-haired man began to advance, as Mary backed away in rising horror. "Please," she said in a pathetic voice. "Don't do this." But her words had no effect. The man seized her by the arms, and after a moment's indecision, threw her to the ground. And then he was upon her, tearing at the buttons of her dress, pressing her body hard against the stony track. Writhing in terror, Mary let out a piercing scream. The man lifted his hand to strike her. But the blow never fell. A shadow flashed across her vision, as an indistinct shape flew down from the rocks above. There was the thud of impact, as the man on top of her was torn aside. Two men wrestled on the ground beside her. The one, in rough clothes that fit him badly, quickly gained the upper hand, pinning the other beneath him. He raised a long knife in his hand, and with a savage cry, drove the blade home. But an instant later there came a shot from behind, and the prisoner fell forward across the man that he had stilled. The second cavalryman, still mounted, had draw his pistol as soon as he regained his senses, and waited only for a clear shot at the Highlander. In the confusion he had lost his grip on the other's horse, which bolted at the sound. And taking quick stock of the situation, the cavalryman seemed to feel much the same panic. For he too rode away, as if the Devil rode behind him. His hoofbeats died slowly in the distance. Recovering somewhat from the shock, Mary rose and went to the crumpled form of her deliverer, to see if anything could be done. The ball had pierced his back, but perhaps..... Raising his upper body carefully, she drew him clear of the other. Then kneeling, she slowly laid him down, causing the fair, curly head to loll weakly into her lap. She let out a gasp as a familiar face looked up at her, and said her name with a smile. "My Mary."