at the same time you would conquer the liberties of the Northern citizen.  You will be at the mercy of the successful general whose triumph may make him the idol of the armed millions that alone can accomplish our subjugation.  In the South, butchery and rapine by hordes of desperate negroes—­in the North anarchy and political intrigue, to be merged into dictatorship and the absolutism of military power.  Such would be the results of your triumph and our defeat.”

“Those are the visions of a heated brain,” said Harold.  “I must confess that your fighting is better than your logic.  There is no danger to our country that the loyalty of its people cannot overcome—­as it will your rebellion.”

CHAPTER XXVI.

They had now approached the edge of the plain which Oriana had pointed out on the preceding day.  The sun, which had been tinging the western sky with gorgeous hues, was peering from among masses of purple and golden clouds, within an hour’s space of the horizon.  Captain Haralson, interested and excited by his disputation, had been riding leisurely along by the side of his prisoner, taking but little note of the route or of the lapse of time.

“Cease your unprofitable argument,” cried Oriana, “and let us have a race over this beautiful plain.  Look! ’tis as smooth as a race-course, and I will lay you a wager, Captain Haralson, that my Nelly will lead you to yonder clump, by a neck.”

She touched her horse lightly with the whip, and turned from the road into the meadows.

“It is late, Miss Weems,” said the Southron, “and I must report at headquarters before sundown.  Besides, I am badly mounted, and it would be but a sorry victory to distance me.  I pray you, let us return.”

“Nonsense!  Nelly is not breathed.  I must have one fair run over this field; and, gentlemen, I challenge you both to outstrip Nelly if you can.”

With a merry shout, she struck the fleet mare smartly on the flank, and the spirited animal, more at the sound of her voice than aroused by the whip-lash, stretched forward her neck and sprang over the tufted level.  Harold waved his hand, as if in invitation, to his companion, and was soon urging his powerful horse in the same direction.  Haralson shouted to them to stop, but they only turned their heads and beckoned to him gaily, and plunging the spurs into the strong but heavy-hoofed charger that he rode, he followed them as best he could.  He kept close in their rear very well at first, but he soon observed that he was losing distance, and that the two swift steeds in front, that had been held in check a little at the start, were now skimming the smooth meadow at a tremendous pace.

“Halt!” he cried, at the top of his lungs; but either they heard it not or heeded it not, for they still swept on, bending low forward in the saddle, almost side by side.

A vague suspicion crossed his mind.