CHAPTER Sixteenth.
"I know that there are angry spirits And turbulent mutterers of stifled treason, Who lurk in narrow places, and walk out Muffled to whisper curses to the night.
Disbanded soldiers, discontented ruffians And desperate libertines who lurk in taverns." -- BYRON.
A bright, warm day, some hours after sunrise.

A man of rather gentlemanly appearance, well, though not handsomely dressed, is riding leisurely along the public highway.

He wears a broad-brimmed straw hat as a protection from the sun, and a linen duster somewhat soiled by the dust of travel.

He has a shrewd though not unkindly face, and a keen grey eye whose quick glances seem to take in everything within its range of vision.
It is a lonely bit of road he is traveling and he moves with caution evidently on the alert for any appearance of danger.
Presently he perceives another solitary horseman approaching from the opposite direction, and at the sight lays his hand on the pistols in his belt concealed by the duster, to make sure that they are ready for instant use; but at the same time keeping steadily on his way.
The new comer is a slender boy of eighteen or twenty, not at all dangerous looking.
As the two near each other each lifts his hat with a courteous, "Good morning, sir," the lad at the same time carelessly sliding his right hand down the left lappel of his coat.
The movement, slight as it was, had not escaped the watchful grey eyes, and instantly their owner replied by sliding his left hand in the same manner down the right lappel of his coat.
The lad then ran his fingers lightly through his hair; the other imitated his action; the lad opened his coat and seemed to be searching for a pin; the man opened his, took out a pin and handed it to him with a polite bow.
"Thanks! all right sir; I perceive you are one of us," said the boy, drawing a paper from his pocket and presenting it to the man.

"Miller's Woods!" and touching his hat he galloped away.
There was a twinkle in the grey eyes as they shot one swift glance after him; then the paper was opened and examined with minute care.
On it was a half moon with several dates written in different places about it, and that was all; yet its new possessor regarded it with great satisfaction, and after a careful scrutiny bestowed it safely in his breast pocket.
"I'll be on hand without fail," he said, in a low, confidential tone, perhaps addressing his horse, as there was no one else within hearing.
"To-night! they're late serving my notice; but better late than never; for me, though perhaps not for themselves," he added with a grim smile.
"Well, my preparations won't take long: dress-suit's all ready." He kept on his way at the old leisurely pace, presently came in sight of Fairview, passed it, then Ion, diligently using his eyes as he went, made a circuit of several miles and returned to the town which he had left some hours previously.
Dismounting at the village tavern, he gave his horse into the care of the hostler, and joined a group of idlers about the bar-room door.