She gave him a smile in return. “I know, but the forests are so still, so deep, so interminable, one fancies, one dreams, one almost fears that something terrifying may be lurking in the unknown beyond.” Through the leaves patches of sunlight flickered down upon them; across their pathway a squirrel leaped; birds at their approach started from the branches overhead and, with sudden cries, darted deeper into the dim recesses.
“I know the way well,” Lendert told her. “I travel here frequently. Half-way we are. There is a long straight path ahead; you can see where the sunlight comes through the trees all the way.”
It was, as he said, a path of sunlight ahead of them, checkered, indeed, by leaf shadows, but much brighter than the surrounding woods. As they advanced something was discerned moving toward them rapidly. Presently their eyes discovered it to be a horseman urging his steed to its utmost. Lendert glanced at his pistols, gathered his bridle more firmly in his hand, cast a reassuring glance at Alaine, and continued his way with seeming placid unconcern. “He journeys fast,” he remarked. “A messenger express, I take it.” As they drew within closer range he called out, “What, ho, my friend? What is the news you ride so fast with?”
But Alaine gave a little scream of dismay and hid her face behind Lendert’s broad shoulder. She had caught sight of the wrathful countenance of François Dupont.
CHAPTER VI
FOR LIFE OR DEATH
At the sound of Alaine’s cry Lendert set spurs to his horse and made a dash past the on-coming rider, but there came a report of a pistol; his hold upon the bridle loosened; he reeled slightly in his saddle; the horse made a plunge forward, then stopped short, and in an instant François was alongside.
“You thought to escape me, my falconet,” he cried, “but I have the jesses ready. You do not leave my wrist again. By St. Maclovius, I was in luck to have crossed your path when I was on my way to your hiding-place.”
He seized her waist and attempted to drag her from her seat, but she clung to Lendert, down whose cheek the blood was running.
“Mynheer Verplanck,” she cried, “do not die! Do not leave me to the mercy of this man!” And she beat off with her fists the hands of the man whose hold was tightening upon her.
For a second Lendert looked around in a dazed way, then his stunned senses returned, and he gave the horse a cut which caused him to spring forward, and the suddenness of the movement dragged François from his saddle, but he clung to Alaine’s pillion, and, cat-like, scrambled up behind her. “I also go,” he said. “To quote your favorite Scripture, mademoiselle, ‘Whither thou goest I will go.’”