Auban
gained a groundless hope with the passing of the hours. Even the
long night at length rolled away. Jeanne slept in her mistress'
room. Nothing occurred to disturb their rest.
It was evening of the second day, and the shadows again were lying
long across the valley, when there came slowly filing into view
along the turn of the road the band of returning riders. At their
head was the tall form of Dunwody, the others following,
straggling, drooping in their saddles as though from long hours of
exertion. The cavalcade slowly approached and drew up at the front
door. As they dismounted the faces of all showed haggard, worn and
stern.
"There has been combat, Madame!" whispered Jeanne. "See, he has
been hurt. Look--those others!"
Dunwody got out of his saddle with difficulty. He limped as he
stood now. A slender man near him got down unaided, a tall
German-looking man followed suit. The group broke apart and showed
a girl, riding, bound. Some one undid the bonds and helped her to
the ground.
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