“Oh! spoils from the picnic—just so!” answered Albert. Then turning to his companion, he said—“Mrs. Goldsborough, I am aware that you never touch anything stronger than tea or lemonade. Unfortunately we have neither to offer you. However, the clearest of springs sparkles below us, and if you would like a draught of fresh water——” “Hold your tongue! Don’t speak to me, miscreant!” flashed Elfie, losing her patience. Meanwhile Colonel Corsoni had leaped from his saddle, and dipped up from the spring a can of water, which he now held to Elfie’s lips. She was choking with thirst, so she drank it all and bowed her head in thanks. “Now I think we want foddering as well as watering. Corsoni, my friend, what is the condition of the subsistence department?” The Free Sword, who was about to render the same service to his wife that he had just rendered to Elfie, handed the can of water to Alberta, and then took from some depository about his horse a tin box of ham sandwiches, which he delivered to Colonel Goldsborough. “More spoils from the picnic, I suppose,” said Albert, as he received them. “Yes, I judge so, since they came from Mutchison,” answered Corsoni. “Exactly. Well, Mrs. Goldsborough, if you would like some of these sandwiches, and will promise not to scalp me, I will free your hands long enough for you to satisfy your hunger,” said Elfie’s lover. “You poltroon! I would see _you_ eaten up by snakes sooner than I would touch a morsel of food from your thievish and blood-stained hands! If I cannot free myself in any other way, I can by starving myself to death!” exclaimed Elfie. “Two words to that, Mrs. Albert Goldsborough! You may think you have a right to destroy yourself. But I’m dashed if you have any right to destroy my wife, after all the trouble I have had to get her,” said Albert, as he put spurs to his horse and bounded away. Some little time Corsoni and Alberta lingered to take a light luncheon, and then they also followed after him. They continued their way through the forest, which grew thicker and darker as they penetrated deeper into its recesses. At length, however, they reached higher ground, where the trees grew thinner. And just as the moon arose they began to ascend that almost inaccessible part of the mountains known as the Black Bear’s Pass. Steep, winding, difficult and dangerous was the way. The side of the mountain up which the path wound was nearly perpendicular, broken into rocks, cut up with torrents and obstructed with a ragged, scrubby copsewood of evergreen. The precipice towered a thousand feet above them on their right hand, and fell a thousand feet below them on their left. A single false step must have precipitated horses and riders to death.