Corsoni went in advance and Alberta followed on her sure-footed animal. Neither the guerrilla chief nor his devoted wife thought or cared for the present imminent danger; for oh! a more horrible fate threatened them daily in Corsoni’s possible re-arrest than could be braved in a quick and merciful death by falling over this precipice. Indeed, the more terrible the dangers of the path the more assured was the heart of the guerrilla’s wife, since the perils of the way seemed to promise them immunity from pursuit. They went on, slowly ascending this “devil’s ladder,” as Corsoni laughingly characterized it, until at last they heard voices in advance. They had once more come unexpectedly upon Goldsborough and Elfie. The former was saying: “Now, if your hands were free, my fair wife, you would have a fine opportunity of rolling us both down to destruction.” “No matter, wretch. ‘What’s not paid is but delayed.’ I shall be in at your death yet. The one burning aspiration of my soul is to live to see you hanged, Albert Goldsborough!” she exclaimed. “So you shall, Mrs. Albert—around your pretty neck, my sweet wife, as I said before,” retorted Goldsborough. It was while this tender interchange of affection was going on that Corsoni and Alberta rode up and halted behind the party. “What’s the matter ahead there?” inquired the Free Sword. “Can’t you get on?” “Yes, but very slowly. My horse carries double, you may remember. Besides, Mrs. Goldsborough is timid, and does not like me to go any faster,” replied Albert. “It is false, you caitiff! I don’t care how fast you go—the faster the better, so that you go to the old Nick!” flashed Elfie. “And take you with me?” queried Albert. “Hold your tongue!” snapped Elfie. “Go on, my dear Goldsborough, do,” recommended Corsoni. “I am going. I only stop once in a way for a little love making with my bonny bride here, which is but natural in the honeymoon, you know,” said Albert, as he carefully proceeded on his way. Corsoni and Alberta followed. The pass became more and more steep, winding, difficult and dangerous. The rocks were more broken, the torrents more swollen, the copsewood more tangled and treacherous. The precipice now rose five hundred feet on their right hand, and fell fifteen hundred on their left. The false step which might precipitate horses and riders to death seemed imminent. Alberta’s spirits actually rose with the perils and perplexities of the ascent, for these seemed absolutely to insure the fugitives against pursuit. “I do not think the Yankee heroes will care to track us up this path,” said Alberta, exultingly. “No, I do not think they will. Besides, one single resolute and well armed man, stationed at the head of this pass, could keep it against an advancing army,” replied the Free Sword. An hour more of toilsome and terrible climbing brought them to the top of the mountain.