The outlaws were, in the meanwhile, proceeding on their course with a celerity that left them little to dread from pursuit; and, indeed, all their measures indicated that their plan had been laid with as much forethought as audacity. The captive maidens, after being borne for the space of a mile or more, in the arms of their captors, were placed upon horses previously in waiting; and then, supported by an athletic attendant on each hand, were hurried forward with even greater rapidity than before. Before this arrangement was effected, and while they were yet in the neighbourhood of Hawk-Hollow, a change came over the spirit of one of the prizes, not more advantageous to herself than it was agreeable to the wild band who were somewhat weary of her lamentations. This was Phoebe, whose terrors, instead of abating, grew more clamorous, with every bound of the steed that bore her; and which, having begun with sobs and piteous ejaculations, increased to something like positive outcries; until, at last, the man who carried her, losing all patience, and unlocking lips that seemed previously made of stone, muttered, or rather whispered in her ear, but in no very amiable accents, "Consarn the woman! what are you squalling a'ter? Hold your foolish tongue, Phoebe Jones, or"-- But the sound of a threatening voice was by no means fitted to allay the damsel's fear, or paralyze the member it had set so vigorously in motion. She interrupted the menace with a still louder shriek, adding, "Oh lord, good gentleman, pray don't murder me!" "Gentleman!" cried the other with a kind of snort, evidently designed for a laugh: "Well, I reckon, I am a sort of, as well as another. But what's the contraction? Who's talking of murdering? I'm an honest feller, Phoebe Jones, and you know it; and these here refugees are all honest fellers, too, as ever you'd wish to see. Now, Phoebe, just scratch your nose, and be quiet; for you know I won't hurt you." "Lord!" said Phoebe, in surprise, "don't I know that voice?" "Why, I reckon," replied the other, with a more strongly marked chuckle than before; "but, mind you, no talking above breath; for that's agin orders, and captain Gilbert's a screamer." "Captain Gilbert!" said Phoebe, in mortal terror. "Oh Dancy Parkins, don't let him kill me, and I'll never abuse you no more!" As he spoke, she banished so much of her fear as to fling an arm around the horseman's neck, as if to insure the protection she entreated; and the action, as well as the appeal, went so effectually to his heart, that he answered forthwith, "Well I won't,--I won't let him hurt you, I won't, consarn me!--You see, Phoebe Jones," he added, with the same giggle which had marked the manly assurance of protection, "I'm the man for you, a'ter all: I told you, you'd be coming round, some day or other, for all your saying you despised me."