I hear 'em coming," she swiftly whispered to her mother, for the elder
woman had dropped dolefully upon the mattress and was sobbing. And,
indeed, the girl could hear the quick, dull trample of horses. She
stepped aside with sudden apprehension, but she bent her head forward in
order to still scan the road.

"Here they are!"

There was something very theatrical in the sudden appearance of these
men to the eyes of the girl. It was as if a scene had been shifted. The
forest suddenly disclosed them--a dozen brown-faced troopers in blue--
galloping.

"Oh, look!" breathed the girl. Her mouth was puckered into an
expression of strange fascination, as if she had expected to see the
troopers change into demons and gloat at her. She was at last looking
upon those curious beings who rode down from the North--those men of
legend and colossal tale--they who were possessed of such marvellous
hallucinations.

The little troop rode in silence. At its head was a youthful fellow
with some dim yellow stripes upon his arm. In his right hand he held his
carbine, slanting upward, with the stock resting upon his knee. He was
absorbed in a scrutiny of the country before him.

At the heels of the sergeant the rest of the squad rode in thin column,
with creak of leather and tinkle of steel and tin. The girl scanned the
faces of the horsemen, seeming astonished vaguely to find them of the
type she knew.