I stoop’d and pil’d a heap of fresh snow over the blood stains. There was no intent in this but to hide the pity that chok’d me. She had still to hear about her brother, Anthony. Turning, as by a sudden thought, I took her hand. She look’d into my eyes, and her own filled with tears. ’Twas the human touch that loosen’d their flow, I think: and sinking down again beside her father, she wept her fill. “Mistress Killigrew,” I said, as soon as the first violence of her tears was abated, “I have still some news that is ill hearing. Your enemies are encamp’d in the woods, about a half mile below this”—and with that I told my story. “They have done their worst, sir.” “No.” She looked at me with a question on her lip. Said I, “you must believe me yet a short while without questioning.” Considering for a moment, she nodded. “You have a right, sir, to be trusted, tho’ I know not so much as your name. Then we must stay close in hiding?” she added very sensibly, tho’ with the last word her voice trail’d off, and she began again to weep. But in time, having cover’d the dead baronet’s body with sprays of the wither’d bracken, I drew her to a little distance and prevail’d on her to nibble a crust of the loaf. Now, all this while, it must be remembered, I was in my shirt sleeves, and the weather bitter cold. Which at length her sorrow allow’d her to notice. “Why, you are shivering, sore!” she said, and running, drew my buff-coat from her father’s body, and held it out to me. “Indeed,” I answer’d, “I was thinking of another expedition to warm my blood.” And promising to be back in half an hour, I follow’d down my former tracks toward the stream. Within twenty minutes I was back, running and well-nigh shouting with joy. “Come!” I cried to her, “come and see for yourself!” What had happen’d was this:—Wading cautiously down the brook, I had cause suddenly to prick up my ears and come to a halt. ’Twas the muffled tramp of hoofs that I heard, and creeping a bit further, I caught a glimpse, beyond the hut, of a horse and rider disappearing down the woods. He was the last of the party, as I guess’d from the sound of voices and jingling of bits further down the slope. Advancing on the hut with more boldness, I found it deserted. I scrambled up on the bank and round to the entrance. The snow before it was trampled and sullied by the footmarks of men and horses: and as I noted this, came Settle’s voice calling up the slope—— “Jerry—Jerry Toy!” A nearer voice hail’d in answer. “Where’s Reuben?” “Coming, Captain—close behind!” “Curse him for a loitering idiot! We’ve wasted time enough, as ’tis,” called back the Captain. “How in thunder is a man to find the road out of this cursed wood?” “Straight on, Cap’n—you can’t miss it,” shouted another voice, not two gunshots below. A volcano of oaths pour’d up from Settle. I did not wait for the end of them: but ran back for Mistress Delia.