"That may all be true, Edward, but you do wrong to throw aside all the credit, as you seem anxious to do. You acted bravely, and you know it. Jo has told me about it, and he said more than that, too!" "I don't know what he could say more than that," said young Clinton in surprise. "He told me that you had a dreadful time in getting away from the battle. You had to swim the river out to Monacacy island, and the Indians followed you, and came near capturing both. You acted very bravely again, as any one who knows you might have been sure you would, and helped him very much, indeed. I thank you for that, Edward." "I don't want to appear in the light of disputant of all that Jo says, but he gives me more credit in that matter than belongs to me. It was all we could do, and more than appeared possible, to take care of ourselves--each of us alone, without thinking of the other. He surely helped me as much as I helped him." "Well, I shall have to wait till I hear what he has to say about that," responded Rosa, with that persistency so charming in a beautiful woman when it is in favor of him with whom she is holding her argument. The certainty that he possessed the good opinion of this girl, in spite of his own sense of awkwardness and embarrassment, caused more than one thrill of delight to pass through the young hero as he listened to the words--a thousand times more delightful--coming from such lips as hers. "I am pleased beyond measure," he said, gathering courage from her utterances, and the darkness that now veiled their faces from each other, "to find that I have earned your good opinion, and all that I ask is that I may continue to deserve it." "Why, of course you will," she was prompt to reply. "What could you do to make any one respect you less?" "Well, I might do a great many things that I hope I won't do," he laughed. "Not to mention my own principles, the fear of displeasing you would be enough at any time--" "'Sh!" interrupted Rosa, in a frightened whisper. "I am sure I heard some one just then behind us." CHAPTER II. SOFT AND LOW. At the mention of suspected danger, Clinton sprang up and moved in the direction whence he supposed it came, though he heard nothing of it himself. It was so dark that he could see but a little way in the woods. After stealing a few paces, rifle in hand, he paused and listened, thinking that if any enemies were at hand, they would be sure to betray themselves by attempting to advance. But the stillness remained unbroken, and he suspected that Rosa had been mistaken. Even though he knew not where Jo and the Mohawk were just then, he was sure that they were at no great distance, and the redskin was certain to discover the approach of any foe. When five or ten minutes passed he turned about and rejoined his fair friend. "You must have been in error," said he. "I _was_ mistaken," she said, with a laugh; "and I was on the point of calling and telling you what it was." "Well, what was it?"