“Ha, ha, ha! Quite right, Alberta,” laughed Colonel Goldsborough. “As lady and chieftainess you could not say less. Though, of course, your interference was a mere form; for you know as well as I do that Elfie would not thank you for hindering me; because at heart she is just as willing to be carried off as I am to take her.”
“Oh, you—you—you unutterably, contemptible miscreant!” cried Elfie, at a loss for names base enough to bestow on her captor.
But at that instant the order was given to move forward; and Goldsborough put spurs to his horse and bounded away.
The troop started—very much as a company of fox hunters start when the fox has broken cover—all in wildest haste and disorder, the first object being to get away as quickly as possible—the great difference that in this case the party were the hunted instead of the hunters.
They galloped, without drawing rein, until they had put miles and miles between themselves and their late encampment.
Then, on the edge of another great forest, they slackened pace to breathe their horses.
When all the troop—the men and horses covered with dust and reeking with sweat—rode up, their chief lifted his hand and spoke to them;
“Attention! Scatter yourselves through the forest, and rendezvous to-night at the Black Bear’s Pass, where we join Colonel Goldsborough’s force.”
Then they entered the forest by different paths, and scattered themselves according to order.
Some little distance into the forest Colonel Corsoni and Alberta rode side by side.