"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.