heavy rain, that the river will be in freshet if we delay; and your honor knows to go around by Hinckley's corner would be a matter of twenty miles out of the way, besides leading us right into the heart of the tories."

This sensible view of the case appeared to strike the officer forcibly, and he was about to jerk his bridle, when the same cry, followed by several rapid screams, again rent the air.

"There's something going on there more than a drunken frolic," said Hereward, vehemently, and as he spoke, he spurred his horse into a bridle path leading through the woods in the direction of the sound. His companion smiled again that same peculiar smile, and followed him.

A few minutes brought them into a little open space, or clearing in the heart of that wild forest. Here were about thirty acres of land from which the trees had been lately felled, for the stumps still stood unrotted in the fields, which were enclosed by a zig-zag fence. In the centre of the clearing stood a rude log house, in front of which some dozen persons were collected, with an old, gray-haired man in the centre having a rope about his neck. A little space apart appeared a young, and not unlovely female struggling in the arms of two men, and filling the air with shrieks.

"Oh! spare him," she said, stretching her arms towards the old man, "spare him for the love of God. Do n't murder him, and he no time for a prayer. He is my father-you can't be so cruel. Spare him--"

Hereward comprehended the whole affair at a glance. He knew the men, by their dress, to be American volunteers, and he suspected the old man was a tory, whom, in compliance with the bitter guerilla warfare then going on, they were about to hang. Hereward though an active partizan, was not a sanguinary one, and from his soul he reprobated the system of bloody reprisals at that time so common in the Carolinas. He, therefore, dashed his rowels into the side of his steed, cleared the fence

before him at a flying leap, and was galloping across the intervening field before his follower had time to stop him.

"It's that devil McDevitt about to git his deserts; and a black-mouthed rascal he is, though our cornet Jim is in love with his pretty darter. However, I must follow my mad-cap of a captain or them rangers will murder him." With these words. Simpson put his horse to a gallop, though, instead of leaping the fence, he followed the usual and more circuitous road.

With the speed of an arrow Hereward had crossed the field, and dashing into the very midst of the rangers before they even knew of his vicinity, he checked his mettled steed so suddenly that the foam from his bit flew over his dark, shining coat in snowy flakes.

"What means this?" he exclaimed. directly. Shame on ye!"

"Unloose that old man

At these tones of command the men looked up, while those who were pinioning the victim dropped the cord. But one, apparently the leader, stepped forward.

"It's the bloody tory McDevitt we have here, captain Hereward. He's a spy, too, and many 's the brave fellow he 's been the death of. But his hour's come."

"Oh! for the love of heaven, sir," said the daughter, breaking from the men, who had released their hold, and rushing forward, save my father, and the blessing of God will be with you to your dying day. He 's an old man and nigh his grave. Do n't cut short his few years of life."

Her beautiful countenance, eloquent with a daughter's love, was upturned to Hereward as she spoke; for she had knelt at his stirrup, clasping his boot in an agony of supplication. He felt the tears starting to his eyes. Turning to the leader of the

ruffians he said, angrily,

How dare you, sir, murder this old man? If he is guilty let him be tried by the proper authorities; but do n't emulate the savage cruelty of the enemy, for that only brings on retaliation