’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. The soldiers! They must not find her here. She had found him! Excitement welled. “I am sure of it. But I've an old friend on the way here, and he knows the game down there. Sheppard.
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