"Who is it?" cried the Captain with trembling voice. "It is I--MacWhirlie!" And throwing his arms about the captive's neck the brave dragoon sobbed for joy. Suddenly the darkness of the cave was broken by a flood of light that relieved even the shadows of that end of the cavern where Bruce had lain. MacWhirlie turned. Proud was gone! The Brownies at the mouth of the cave were in great confusion, some sprawling upon the floor, some scrambling to their feet, some swinging by the roof, some hanging to the raised trap-door and some to the mouth of the cave. In the excitement of the moment MacWhirlie let go his hold upon the Captain. The limbs of the unfortunate chief were so benumbed by his severe handling and the tightness of the ropes with which he was bound, that he fell upon the floor. "Ah, my poor Captain," exclaimed MacWhirlie, "pardon my thoughtlessness!" Without more ado he lifted the fallen officer in his arms, and started toward the cave's mouth. Rise, Hope and several others were already hurrying inward to find their officers. They met MacWhirlie midway of the cavern staggering under his burden. A shout of joy burst from their lips at the sight. It was subdued at once, as the noble fellows caught sight of their leader's pale face. But the note had gone on from lip to lip, out of the branch tunnel, up the walls of the main cavern, along the line of soldiers who hung upon the ropes, to the group who gathered around the open door. The sentinels caught up the cry; it flew from man to man until it reached the camp, and then, led by the sound of trumpets and the blast of bugles, the whole wood and valley rang with such a cheer as never before went up even from Brownie throats: "Hurrah! Rejoice! Our lost is found!" The squirrels stopped upon the branches of the trees, threw their bushy tails above their backs, pricked up their tiny ears, listened a moment, then joined in the cry of their friends, with merry barking. The birds stopped in their flight, or alit upon the boughs, perked their pretty heads to this side and that, as though they were asking, "what is the matter?" Then they, too, joined in the shout of their good friends the Brownies, whistling, trilling, carolling until the air was alive with songs. The trees clapped their leaf hands together; the flowers raised their plumed hats; the bees, butterflies and wasps hummed in chorus with the joyful cry. It seemed as though all nature had joined in with their happy friends to celebrate the rescue of Bruce, chief of the Brownies; and happiest heart of all was that of Agatha the good. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote BD: Appendix, Note A.] [Footnote BE: Appendix, Note B.] CHAPTER XXIX. BREAKING CAMP.