Ezra bent forward and took the papers in his left hand. Thrusting them into the breast of his coat, he said with a laugh:

“It would show a sad lack of charity on my part to leave you in a disturbed state of mind. A disabled horse and a long road are calamities enough for any man.”

“I thank you,” said Scarlett. He tugged at his moustache with one hand; the thumb of the other was stuck in his sword belt, his legs were very wide apart, and the plumed hat was set well back upon his head. “You are a ready youth and a generous one. Perhaps your wit is not all that it will be in the years to come. Nevertheless, I say that you are a ready youth. And further, I will add that you have the makings in you of a most excellent soldier.”

Once more the long plume swept the ground as Ezra, with a wave of the hand, rode away; and the last the boy saw of him he was stripping the saddle from the fallen horse and apparently railing against his ill luck in a most hearty fashion.

 CHAPTER III—TELLS HOW EZRA ENTERED THE HOUSE OF ABDALLAH

“Rather an odd character, I should think,” mused the young New Englander as he rode along. “A soldier of fortune from his own account; and from my own observations, one ready enough to provide himself with anything that he lacked. But he seemed rather a good sort, for all,” with a laugh, “even if he did draw his blade on me and afterward cast reflections upon my wit. I’m sure if I saw more of him I’d come to like him.”

The pace was slow on account of the bad condition of the road; and gradually the sun slipped downward in the west. At length, in a gloomy, sunken place, Ezra came upon a forbidding-looking stream flowing into a shattered dam.

A treacherous-looking bridge of unstripped timber crossed it; and a little to the left was an abandoned mill with staring, empty windows; its broken roof was covered with green moss, a wheel hanging rotten and silent at its side.

“And some little way along I am to find a house by the roadside, am I?” said the lad as he looked about upon this sullen picture. “Well, it takes different tastes to make a world, of course; but I’d never have thought that any one would select a spot like this for a dwelling-place.”

Gingerly the bay picked its way across the bridge; the aged timbers swayed and groaned; through the open seams between the planks, the dark water could be seen flowing 

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