Go on, and leave me to follow as I can after a little rest." "Not a step without you, Allison," returned Duncan, determinedly.

"Rest a bit, and then try it again with the help of my arm.

Courage, old fellow, we must have put at least six or eight miles between us and our late quarters.

Ah, ha! yonder are some blackberry bushes, well laden with ripe fruit.

Sit or lie still while I gather our breakfast." Hastily snatching a handful of oak leaves, and forming a rude basket by pinning them together with thorns, he quickly made his way to the bushes, a few yards distant, while Harold stretched himself upon the log and closed his weary eyes.
He thought he had hardly done so when Duncan touched his arm.
"Sorry to wake you, Allison, but time is precious; and, like the beggars, we must eat and run." The basket was heaped high with large, delicious berries, which greatly refreshed our travelers.
"Now, then, are you equal to another effort ?" asked Duncan, as the last one disappeared, and he thrust the leaves into his pocket, adding, "We mustn't leave these to tell tales to our pursuers." "Yes, I dare not linger here," returned Allison, rising but totteringly.
Duncan threw an arm about him, and again they pressed forward, toiling on for another half-hour; when Allison again gave out, and sinking upon the ground, begged his friend to leave him and secure his own safety.
"Never!" cried Duncan, "never! There would be more, many more, to mourn your loss than mine.