The two knelt and began the search. Ruth pressed the bushes so as to
cover Andy's cane, but as her keen eyes fell upon the spot where it had
been, to her surprise and joy, she saw that it was gone!

A cry broke from her, for, as she realized that that danger was past,
she saw, near at hand, a plant so rare even to her woodland eyes, that
it was precious. Thanks to her learned father, she knew its name, and
the spray of waxen berries was her salvation.

"See!" she cried, "you have brought good luck. 'Tis a rare find. Now I
pray you, sir, name the berry I hold in my hand."

The man was searching the underbrush, and turned half angrily. "What
have you?" he snarled. Ruth knew that Andy was near, but no breath was
heard.

"Name the berry, sir, or I claim my advantage!" Ruth stood upright with
the spray in her hand.

"Wintergreen," ventured the fellow, wildly.

"Wrong!" sneered Ruth, "and there is no second trial."

"How can you prove me wrong?" jeered the man, coming insolently close;
"who is to decide?"

"Your head officer, sir," flashed Ruth; "lead on, I will gladly leave it
to him. After he has heard the tale from me--from _me_, mark--I will
leave it to him. Perhaps there is one gentleman in the king's troops.