"Mistress Betty, sir," came the swift whisper in retort, and with so haughty a gesture that Geoffrey stepped back as if he had been struck, while Betty, with a slight inclination of her head, passed on to where Mrs. Seymour stood with Caesar on the other side of the coach. But if she expected him to follow she was swiftly made aware of her mistake, for Geoffrey merely pursued his intention of searching the pockets of the coach, and when he emerged from it he came, hat in hand, toward the ladies with face more calm and unruffled than Betty's own.

"If you will resume your seats," he said, addressing Mrs. Seymour, without a glance at Betty, who (now that her anger born partly of terror had passed) stole a quick look at him, and as quickly looked away, "I will ride on before you and be waiting at the river; if it be safe, you will cross on horseback; if not, on foot, and I shall take great pleasure in seeing that you reach King's Bridge Inn in safety." Whereupon he escorted Mrs. Seymour to the coach, and when he turned to assist Betty found that she was in the act of climbing inside by the other door, where Caesar stood in attendance.

"What a provoking child it is!" said Geoffrey to himself as he flung into his saddle, smiling at the recollection of Betty's rebuke and proud little toss of her head. "'Mistress Betty'! Very well, so be it; and thanks to the star of good fortune which guided my steps up the road to-day. I wonder how she comes here, and why," and Captain Yorke gave his horse the spur as he galloped on.

Some distance behind him the coach lumbered forward, and Mrs. Seymour's tongue rattled on gayly. So engrossed was she with being nearly at her journey's end, and their good luck at having fallen in with Yorke, that Betty's silence passed unnoticed.

"To think that we should meet again," ran Betty's thoughts. "'Betty,' forsooth! How dare he use my name so freely! What would Mrs. Seymour have thought had she heard him, and how could I possibly have explained with any air of truth unless I told her the whole story—which I would rather die at once than do. He has not changed at all; I should have known him anywhere, even in that hateful scarlet coat, which becomes him so mightily. I wonder if my rebuke was too severe"—and here she became conscious of Mrs. Seymour again.

"Yorke—did not that handsome young officer say his name was Yorke? Why, then he must have some kinship with the Earl of Hardwicke; very probably this young man may be a grandson of the earl. I must ask my sister; she will have some information about it."

"Worse and worse," thought Betty. "A British officer—kinsman of an earl—oh, me, in what a coil am I enveloped! But at least my father knows all, and he would not hold me disloyal."

The coach bumped and jolted along, and finally came to a standstill, while Caesar's voice was heard addressing some one. Betty looked out of the window and behold a dismal prospect enough. The bank shelved gradually down to the river, which at this point was narrow, and between them and the other shore stretched a mixture of snow and ice; she could distinguish the flat-bottomed boat used for ferrying purposes stuck fast almost in the middle of the stream.

"How are we to cross?" said Mrs. Seymour dolefully, looking down at her feet. "I wish I had an extra pair of woolen stockings to pull over my shoes; the snow and ice will be cold walking. What are they doing to the horses?"

"Will it please you to alight, madam?" said Geoffrey, springing from his saddle at the door of the coach. "My men are of the opinion that the ice will not bear so much weight as your coach with you ladies and Caesar in it, but if you can mount your horses we can lead them and you can cross in safety. Meanwhile Caesar can remain here to guard your property, and when my men fetch the horses back they can assist him to transport the coach to the other side. I hope the plan meets your approbation. It seems the only feasible one, provided you ladies can ride without a saddle."

"Bless me," cried Mrs. Seymour, "I shall surely slip off on the ice! Betty here is a horsewoman, but, alas! I am not."

"Then we must contrive a way," replied Geoffrey. "If a blanket be strapped over my saddle I think you can sit on it.—Caesar, put one of those blankets on my horse instead of yours."

"Oh, that will do nicely; how kind you are, Captain Yorke."

"Will the young lady be able to ride one of your horses?" asked Geoffrey, addressing Mrs. Seymour.

"I can ride anything," said Betty hastily, "for my mare is"—and then she bit her lip and colored brightly as Geoffrey turned toward her.

"You will be quite safe, for I shall lead your horse myself. Let me first attend Mrs. Seymour."

Between terror and small gasps of laughter Mrs. Seymour's mounting was accomplished, and then Geoffrey (artful fellow!) summoned a tall, good-looking trooper from the patrol, and, placing the reins in Mrs. Seymour's hand, gave directions to the man.

"You will hold the horse by the bridle and guide every step with care, letting the lady put her hand on your shoulder to steady herself. Be watchful of the air-holes; I think you know the path well."

"Yes, captain," said the trooper, saluting respectfully. "Am I to dismount the lady at the Inn?"

"Aye; go down the path before me;" and Geoffrey turned toward Betty, but again the mischievous maid had been too quick for him, and he beheld her already mounted on one of the coach horses, where she sat demurely and at ease awaiting him. Geoffrey seized the bridle and walked slowly down the bank, taking great care of his own steps lest he should by slipping cause the horse to stumble, and in a few seconds they were slowly picking their way over the rough ice. The horse's hoofs crunched into the snow, and Betty held her breath, and a little thrill went over her as she fancied she heard the ice crack under them.

"Oh!"—a half-involuntary cry escaped her, and Geoffrey looked up reassuringly as he stroked the horse's neck and checked him for a brief second. Mrs. Seymour and the trooper were somewhat in advance and had almost reached the opposite shore.

"I—you—that is"—faltered Betty, meekly dropping her eyelids—"Oh, sir, do you really think we shall gain the Inn safely?"

"There is no cause for fear," said Geoffrey coldly. "I know the path;" and he plodded on in silence. Another few rods, a slip, a half halt; but this time it was Yorke who stumbled and fell on one knee.

"Confound my sword," he cried, recovering his feet. "But we are nearly there. See, Mrs. Seymour has gained the road and is riding on to the Inn."

No reply from Betty; in truth, if he had but known it, she dared not trust her voice lest its first sound should be a sob. And Yorke, divided between amusement and wrath at her perversity, vowed he would say no more until she grew less capricious.

The road was well trodden and the snow light as the pair pursued it in silence. The famous hostelry known as King's Bridge Inn was upon the highway going up the Hudson, where Spuyten Duyvil Creek ran down to Harlem River, and many a rendezvous and intrigue had been carried on within its low, wide rooms since the Colonies had declared their independence of British rule. As Yorke approached the door, inside which Mrs. Seymour had already disappeared, a tall, dark man in riding-boots and long coat came hastily forth, and as Betty dropped the reins of her horse he was at her side. "Oh, Gulian," cried she, stretching out both hands, "don't you know me? 'Tis I, Betty Wolcott; have I outgrown your recollection?"

"Betty, indeed," replied Gulian Verplanck, lifting her off the horse, "and right glad am I to welcome you. What good fortune brought you in contact with Captain Yorke's patrol? Had I known of your near approach, I should myself have ridden forth with him, but the air was chilly and I deemed it more prudent to stop at the Inn until to-morrow."

"Since I see you safe"—began Geoffrey, as Betty half turned toward him.

"You do not know whom you have so kindly assisted," broke in Verplanck; "this is Mistress Betty Wolcott, sister to my wife. Betty, I present to you Captain Geoffrey Yorke, aide to Sir Henry Clinton, and my friend."

Betty executed her most stately and deepest courtesy, and Yorke swept his hat gracefully to the very ground; but as she raised her eyes she said, with a mischievous glance, "I am pleased to learn the name of this gentleman. Sir, I thank you," and giving him a little gracious nod, Betty vanished inside the open door of the Inn.

"Verplanck," called Geoffrey, as his friend was about to follow her, "I shall go directly back to the city, for Sir Henry has to make ready dispatches for England and will need me. Mrs. Seymour's coach will be brought over at once; my men are assisting the negro servant in the transit. Do you follow me shortly?"

"Unless the ladies are too weary we will go at once, for I can obtain fresh horses here and the Inn seems somewhat over-crowded to stop the night. But if you are in haste, Yorke, do not wait."

"Very well, then, I will depart at once. But you must have at least two of my men as escort for the coach and yourself. You know there are plenty of footpads outlying the city."

"I accept the escort gladly," said Verplanck. "Farewell, then, and my hearty thanks."

Betty and Mrs. Seymour had been ushered into a small bedchamber, where they were making some slight changes of dress when Gulian Verplanck knocked at the door and informed them that the coach would shortly be ready for the continuation of their journey. Betty followed him back into the waiting-room, where a good fire was burning, and Verplanck sought to find a seat for her near the hearth. The room was occupied by perhaps a dozen persons, all men: some troopers, and a group of traders whose bundles of furs, lying on the floor beside the table where they were partaking of glasses of home-brewed beer, told their occupation. On one settle, close by the chimney, sat an old man, somewhat ragged, who had fallen asleep with his head resting against his bundle and stick, which shared the bench with him; on the other sat a slight youth dressed in homespun clothing, who instantly rose as Betty approached, and offered her his seat.

"I am warmed enough," he said, as Verplanck gave brief thanks; "besides there is room here. Wake up, grandfather," and he gave the sleeping man a gentle push as he squeezed himself down beside him.

"Stay here till the coach is ready, Betty," said Verplanck. "Mrs. Seymour will join you presently," and he departed to hasten the hostlers, who could be heard outside, evidently engaged in harnessing the horses they were to use.

Betty looked around her curiously. The room, with its low ceilings, dark rafters, and sanded floor, was fairly tidy, and, in the light and shade of the shifting fire, picturesque and strange. A short, thick-set man, evidently the host, a comfortable-looking Dutchman, bustled in and out, giving directions in a perfectly audible aside to a maid, who wore a queer straight cap and brought in trays of beer to the thirsty party of traders. A little boy in one corner was playing with some nails and a pewter plate; each time he dropped the nails, making a jingling noise, the landlord said, "Hush, there, Hans," in a loud whisper, to which the child paid no attention. Betty wondered if it was his son, and felt as if she would like to go over and play with him; and then thought, with a half-homesick longing, of Moppet and the dear New England home. Far, far away ran Betty's thoughts, as minute after minute sped along and no one came to disturb her reverie. So engrossed was she that not even a low, but distinctly spoken "hist," which came from the settle near her, aroused her until it had been given the third time. Then she started; there was something familiar in the sound—was any one speaking to her?

"Hist! do not look this way," whispered a voice which came from the pair opposite her on the other side of the chimney. "Contrive to pass near me as you go out—be cautious!"

"All ready, Betty?" said Mrs. Seymour's gay voice, as she came across the room toward her. "Where is Mr. Verplanck?"

"Here," answered Gulian, from the other door. "Hasten, Betty; the horses are eager to be off."

"I am coming," replied Betty, as she rose hurriedly and dropped her silk reticule directly in front of the mysterious pair on the settle. The boy darted up, giving the bag a furtive kick which sent it under the bench.

"I'll reach it for you, madam," he said aloud, diving down for it as Betty paused a brief second. The old man stirred sleepily, raised his head from his bundle, and keen bright eyes that Betty knew well flashed into hers as he whispered rapidly:—

"Show no alarm, Betty, but no matter how or where you see me, make no sign of recognition."

"Here's your bag," said the boy, springing to his feet. But Betty, never stopping to thank him, ran rapidly across the room, out of the door, and darted into the waiting coach, afraid to even glance behind her, her heart sinking with dismay, for the voice and eyes of that ragged old man were those of her brother Oliver!