the fellow had a straight-forward story to tell, and of course Colonel ——­ would send a trustworthy messenger.  Dart was soon ready at the door, and away they marched on their journey to ——.  Five and twenty miles across a country—­and such a country on an autumn night, was not a very cheering prospect.  The guide did not belie his active appearance, but though Smyth repeatedly endeavoured to keep up a conversation, he seemed to shrink from inquiry, and went doggedly on his way, returning at last merely monosyllabic replies when addressed.

It was an autumnal evening;—­the sky looked wild and stormy, though the air was densely still, and save when a momentary breeze swept by, as the night was setting in, a general hush prevailed.  A general character of intense loneliness pervaded the district they were traversing.  Now and then a mountain stream would flash along the bosom of a valley and relieve the mind of the traveller; but rocks and mountains, heaths and dreary wilds succeeded with unwearying sameness.  Time was creeping on.  After passing over this wild, irregular district they at last entered into a dark valley, which seemed of some extent.  The Lieutenant thought that he had been certainly led a very different route to his friend’s house, from that which his guide was now leading him, and as the gloom was increasing, he seriously expostulated with the man on the subject.  He replied that five miles were saved by cutting across the moors, on which they would enter after clearing the valley.  A shade of suspicion now crossed over the Lieutenant’s mind.  There was something remarkable in the man’s silence, and he resolved when they entered on the moors to put spurs to his horse and leave the rest to fate.  The road which had been on the ascent for some time, now became exceedingly bad, and indeed almost impassable.  Large masses of rock were scattered over the path, and deep hollow chasms, the effect of the violent storms which descend in these wilds, were continually endangering both horse and man.  At length they began to descend.  The moors lay at the foot of the hill.  On this side, however, the road became worse and worse, and the night darker, so that although Dart had hitherto avoided danger with the remarkable sagacity which horses possess in such cases, his rider was obliged to descend, and lead the way himself.  The Lieutenant had not gone far before he was suddenly felled to the ground by a blow aimed from behind.  The violence of the shock fell principally on his shoulders, though there was no doubt his assailant had intended it for his head.  He was a powerful and active young man, and a desperate struggle commenced between them.  They continued for several minutes in this death-wrestle, during which time they had imperceptibly drawn close to the edge of tremendous precipice which bounded the road.  Smyth already heard just below them the wild screaming of some ravens, who had been disturbed by the encounter; when he made a desperate effort on the very brink of the precipice—­tore from his assailant’s murderous grasp—­and in another instant there was a void before him; a wild shriek of despair arose in the night blast, as the wretch bounded from crag to crag—­and then there was a death-like stillness.