Her voice shook; she turned her head aside. The cold mass of foul
suspicion in Mostyn's breast gave way to a higher impulse. A sense of
vast relief was on him. He would have taken her into his arms,
confessed his error, and humbly begged her forgiveness, but for an
unlooked-for interruption. There was a sound in the distance. It was
the steady beat of horses' hoofs on the hard clay road in the
direction of Ridgeville.

"It is the revenue men!" Dolly gasped. "Quick, we must hide!" And,
catching his hand as impulsively as a startled child, she drew him
behind a hedge of boxwood. "Crouch down low!" she cried. "We must not
let them see us. They would think--"

She failed to finish. Seated on the dewy grass, side by side, they
strained their ears for further sounds of the approaching horsemen.
Mostyn marveled over her undaunted calmness. She still held his hand
as if unconscious of what she was doing, and he noted that there was
only a slight tremor in it. The horses were now quite near. A gruff
voice in command was distinctly heard.

"We'll dismount at the creek," it said, "creep up on the scamps, and
bag the whole bunch. If they resist, boys, don't hesitate to fire.
This gang has bothered us long enough. I'm tired of their bold
devilment."

"All right, Cap!" a voice returned. "We'll make it all right this
time. I know the spot."

A dozen horsemen, armed with rifles, came into view and passed on,