Then the head and shoulders of a man were disclosed as he crouched on hands and knees, watching Armitage.

His small head and big body as he crept forward suggested to Shirley some fantastic monster of legend, and her heart beat fast with terror as a knife flashed in his hand.

He moved more rapidly toward the silent figure by the tree, and still Shirley watched wide-eyed, her figure tense and trembling, the hand that held the crop half raised to her lips, while the dark form rose and poised for a spring.
Then she cried out, her voice ringing clear and high across the little vale and sounding back from the cliff.
"Oh! Oh!" and Armitage leaped forward and turned.

His crop fell first upon the raised hand, knocking the knife far into the trees, then upon the face and shoulders of the Servian.

The fellow turned and fled through the maple tangle, Armitage after him, and Shirley ran back toward the bridge where she had left her groom and met him half-way hurrying toward her.
"What is it, Miss?
Did you call ?" "No; it was nothing, Thomas--nothing at all," and she mounted and turned toward home.
Her heart was still pounding with excitement and she walked her horse to gain composure.