"Not much; only a dozen ropes tied around one leg, and as many round de rest ob me body." "Oh, Zeb, don't tell such stories." "Fact, Missus Leland. I counted 'em when dey's puttin' 'em on, and dey cut like forty, too." "Forty-two what?" asked a gruff voice by Zeb's side, in very good English. "Gorra mighty, _who's dat_?" No answer was given. "Who de debbil was dat?" asked Zeb, speaking to Rosalind. She made no answer and appeared to be lost in a reverie. Zeb repeated his question but failed to elicit any reply. Muttering something to himself, he permitted her silence to remain undisturbed. There were two horses in the party, and upon one of these Rosalind had been placed. The other was bestrode by a savage, who appeared to be the leader of the band. Zeb's hands were pinioned behind his back, and he was compelled to walk behind the horse of Rosalind, with a guard that kept a close eye upon his movements. [Illustration: There were two horses in the party, and upon one of these Rosalind had been placed.] Silently yet rapidly the body moved along through the forest of impenetrable darkness, where a perfect knowledge was required in order to make the least progress. Rosalind's horse was a powerful creature, and carried her with comparative comfort. Now and then the cold leaves brushed her face, or her body grazed some tree, yet the animal carried her safely and unharmed. Several times the thought of escape flashed upon her. It seemed easy to turn her horse's head and gallop beyond the reach of her enemies. But one of them was mounted, and she believed she could elude him. She could ride down those immediately around her, and what was there to prevent her making good her escape? And yet, after a few more minutes of thought, she abandoned all hopes of liberty for the present. Her brother was free, and would leave no means untried until she was again restored to him; and there was _another one_, who, she knew in her heart, would exert himself to the utmost to save her. This thought caused her heart to beat faster and faster. There was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke: "Zeb, come a little nearer to me." He made a movement, but was unable to approach much nearer. "Are you listening?" she asked, in a subdued tone. "Yes, missus; mouth, ears and eyes is open." "Then," said she, bending toward him and lowering her voice still more, "I wish to ask you, Zeb, whether you would do me a favor?" "Lord bless you, missus, you knows I'd die a hundred times for you." "I believe you would," returned Rosalind, touched by his tone and words; "but it is no hardship that I ask of you." "Well, out with it quick, fur dese fellers don't like to see yer horse's side rubbin' all de wool off ob my head." "You are acquainted with Roland Leslie, Zeb?" asked Rosalind, bending lower and speaking in a whisper which she scarcely heard herself. "Yes," answered Zeb, breathing hurriedly.