fallen, and there, madam—there, look on it!—is a white flag waving in the hands of a British officer. The fight is done. Hark, our friends are cheering with a loud voice!"
"Thank Heaven—thank Heaven!" exclaimed Mildred, as she sprang upon her feet. "It is even so!"
The loud huzzas of the troops rose upon the air; the firing ceased; the flag of truce fluttered in the breeze; and the confederated bands of the mountaineers, from every quarter of the late battle, were seen hurrying towards the crest of the mountain and mingling amongst the ranks of the conquered foe. Again and again the clamorous cheering of the victors broke forth from the mountain top and echoed along the neighboring valleys.
During this wild clamor and busy movement a party of horsemen were seen, through the occasional intervals of the low wood that skirted the valley on the right, hastening from the field with an eager swiftness towards the spot where Mildred and her companions were stationed.
As they swept along the base of the mountain and approached the knoll they were lost to view behind the projecting angles of the low hills that formed the ravine, through which, my reader is aware, the road held its course. When they reappeared it was in ascending the abrupt acclivity of the knoll and within fifty paces of the party on the top of it.
It was now apparent that the approaching party consisted of Stephen Foster and three or four of the Rangers led by Horseshoe Robinson, with Butler still seated before him as when the sergeant first caught him up in the fight. These were at the same moment overtaken by Henry Lindsay, who had turned back from the mountain at the first announcement of victory to bring the tidings to his sister.
Mildred's cheek grew deadly pale and her frame shook as the cavalcade rushed into her presence.
