He had forgotten his late order until he saw the latter halted by the sentries, but the young girl came flying on, regardless of her companion.

Her skirt was held in one hand, her straw hat had fallen back in her flight, and was caught only by a ribbon around her swelling throat, and her loosened hair lay in a black rippled loop on one shoulder.

For an instant Brant thought that she was seeking him in indignation at his order, but a second look at her set face, eager eyes, and parted scarlet lips, showed him that she had not even noticed him in the concentration of her purpose.

She swept by him into the hall, he heard the swish of her skirt and rapid feet on the stairs,--she was gone.

What had happened, or was this another of her moods?
But he was called to himself by the apparition of a corporal standing before him, with the mulatto woman,--the first capture under his order.
She was tall, well-formed, but unmistakably showing the negro type, even in her small features.