The slight figure was too far ahead of their lagging footsteps to be reached by his words. Indeed they could not see her at all through the gloom of the woods, although they could hear now and again her light footfall, or the cracking of a twig as she stepped upon it.
"She thinks you are displeased with her prank," Mary said, "and I'm sure she feels very unhappy about it."
"She shall not feel so very long," he replied heartily.
They found her waiting for them at the back door of the house, ready to put the key into the lock. But before she could do this her brother put his arms about her and kissed her fondly.
"Brave little girl!" he whispered. "'T is you who have saved the arms and powder for the town."
To his amazement she burst into tears and clung to him, sobbing and trembling like a child.
"Why, Dot, whatever is it?" he asked anxiously, lowering his voice so as not to arouse the inmates of the house.
"She is suffering from a reaction, I think," Mary said softly; "but it will soon pass away."
But Dorothy was of too dauntless a spirit for her brother to be content with this explanation; and holding her close in his arms, he went on assuring her that he was not displeased, but that she had done a brave act, and that every one would say the same if the news of it should get abroad.
"You must hush your sobs," he said, "and go within, and to bed, where you should have been hours ago. I will find Hugh Knollys, and we'll go together and release your prisoner."