H2 By Stream and Sea. 



tidings, told the whole village, as he jolted by, that he had 

 heard shots fired down the ravine through which Fairman's 

 Brook leaps from stage to stage into the arms of the far- 

 away lowlands. The general population deserted their 

 homes, hastily assuming bonnet, shawl, and hat. The snipe 

 shooter and the commercial traveller at the Kingsford Arms, 

 the off-duty warders, everybody hurried to the top of the 

 street, and across the patch of cultivated bog to the eminence 

 which commanded a panoramic view of many miles of fair 

 country. Apart from the crowd, and so intently looking 

 towards the ravine that no one cared to interrupt her, stood 

 Annie Western. Yes, there was one who ventured to speak 

 to the lady Mr. Sullivan. 



"I was sure our fellows wouldn't miss 'em," he said, 

 lightly. 



" Do you mean miss taking or miss shooting them ? " she 

 asked, in a voice that quivered in spite of itself. 



" Either or both," the man answered ; " our orders are 

 very positive. We call for surrender three times, and if that 

 fails well, there's only one thing left." 



The latter words had been uttered gently and apologeti- 

 cally, for the speaker had been touched and awed by the 

 girl's wounded, hunted gaze, and by her long-drawn "Ah ! 

 God help them ! " Then, furtively observing, and finding his 

 companion to be, to all outward seeming, in the statuesque- 

 ness of her countenance, unmoved as a stone, he began to 

 comment upon what was passing before his eyes. 



" Here's the first captive," he said, pointing to the emerg- 

 ence from a turn in the ravine of a slowly-moving body of 

 men. "Whoever it may be, he's either settled or badly 

 winged. Winged, very likely, for they come at a slow pace, 

 and halt now and then to change bearers." 



Before Sullivan had proceeded thus far, Miss Western 



