CHAPTER XII.

Five, ten minutes passed, and still Neville and Sylvia crouched motionless in the gloom of the thicket. No sound of the horsemen was heard, and they hoped that they had gone. Still, they deemed it best to remain under cover rather than risk peril by traveling in the moonlight’s glare. Neville collected a mass of dead leaves, which plentifully strewed the ground, and made of them a rude bed for his companion. He had to use persuasion to induce her to rest on this primitive couch, but at length she assented, and in a…