"
And Peter Van Horn had already ridden into the broad, soft wood-road,
when Dorothy, swinging her horse past him at a gallop, cried out, "I
want to go with them! Please let me!" And was gone like a deer, tearing
away down the leafy trail.
"Come back!" roared Sir Lupus, standing straight up in his ponderous
stirrups. "Come back, you little vixen! Am I to be obeyed, or am I not?
Baggage! Undutiful tree-cat! Dammy, she's off!"
He looked at me and smote his fat thigh with open hand.
"Did you ever see the like of her!" he chuckled, in his pride. "She's a
Dutch Varick for obstinacy, but the rest is Ormond--all Ormond. Ride on,
George, and tell those rebel fools at Fonda's Bush that they should be
hunting cover in the forts if folk at the Fish-House read that smoke
aright. Follow the Brandt-Meester if Dorothy slips you, and tell her
I'll birch her, big as she is, if she's not home by the new moon rise."
Then he dragged his hat over his mottled ears, grasped the bridle and
galloped on, followed by old Cato and his red coat and curly horn.
I had ridden a cautious mile on the dim, leafy trail ere I picked up Van
Horn, only to quit him. I had ridden full three before I caught sight of
Dorothy, sitting her gray horse, head at gaze in my direction.
"What in the world set you tearing off through the forest like that?" I
asked, laughing.
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