“I thought the ‘Devil’s Dripping Pan,’ or ‘Soup Dish,’ or whatever you call your horrid place up there on the mountain top, was to be the general rendezvous of your bands.” “We thought so too, Elfie.” “And that you and Corsoni, with your commands, had met there to wait for the arrival of Monck and his men.” “Such was our plan.” “And here Corsoni moves with his command at midnight, and you march with yours at midday!” “Just so, Elfie!” “In truth, then, it seems to me that you gentlemen horse-thieves don’t know your own minds any more than honester men.” “When a spy gets into our camps, Elfie, and discovers all our secrets, he is apt to defeat all our plans. That little devil of a Gill, who got into Corsoni’s camp, not only betrayed _his_ retreat to the enemy, but, as we have lately learned, he discovered and revealed the secret of this rendezvous. This made it necessary for us to choose another place of gathering, to which we are now going, Elfie. I don’t mind telling you these things, my dear, since it is utterly impossible for _you_ to betray us,” said Albert. And now, as the dangers of the road demanded all their attention, the conversation ceased. The poor preacher held his very breath for fear as he looked up, on the right, to a precipice that towered a thousand feet above him; and then down on the left to another precipice that descended a thousand feet below him; and, last, along the ledge of path that lay before him, so narrow, with such slender space to move in, that a single swerve must have sent horse and rider down to destruction. “Look sharp there! or you will be gone in an instant!” roared Albert Goldsborough, throwing the nervous parson into such a panic as nearly precipitated the catastrophe he had intended to prevent. Elfie laughed. Her nerves were so firm and her pony so sure-footed that she felt quite safe even when perched upon the edge of a precipice where a goat could hardly have found footing. The persecuted preacher was trembling from head to foot. “I know,” he complained, “that even if I live to reach the bottom of this mountain, which is very unlikely, I shall be good for nothing all the rest of my life.” As he said this, the party of three, passing around a projecting rock, came in sight of the rear of the band, who were winding down the narrow pass in single file below them. “Hayden!” cried Colonel Goldsborough, calling out to one of the rear men, who immediately halted. “Hayden, dismount and turn your horse loose and come here and take the parson’s bridle and lead his beast, or we shall have an accident.”