"I have you, man or devil!" shouted Lawton, whirling his saber from its
scabbard. "Halt, and take quarter!"
His proposition was apparently acceded to; for, at the sound of his
powerful voice, the figure sank upon the ground, exhibiting a shapeless
ball of black, without life or motion.
"What have we here?" cried Lawton, drawing up by its side. "A gala suit
of the good maiden, Jeanette Peyton, wandering around its birthplace, or
searching in vain for its discomfited mistress?" He leaned forward in
his stirrups, and placing the point of his sword under the silken
garment, by throwing aside the covering, discovered part of the form of
the reverend gentleman who had fled from the Locusts, the evening
before, in his robes of office.
"In truth, Hollister had some ground for his alarm; an army chaplain is,
at any time, a terror to a troop of horse."
The clergyman had collected enough of his disturbed faculties, to
discover that it was a face he knew, and somewhat disconcerted at the
terror he had manifested, and the indecent attitude in which he had been
found, he endeavored to rise and offer some explanation. Lawton received
his apologies good-humoredly, if not with much faith in their truth;
and, after a short communication upon the state of the valley, the
trooper courteously alighted, and they proceeded towards the guard.
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