Capitolas Peril - Page 217/218

The men filled their mugs, rose to their feet, and pledged their leader

in a parting toast and then: "Good luck to you all!" exclaimed Black Donald, waving his hat thrice

above his head with a valedictory hurrah. And the next moment he was

gone!

That night, if any watchman had been on guard near the stables of

Hurricane Hall, he might have seen a tall man mounted upon Capitola's

pony, ride up in hot haste, dismount and pick the stable lock, take Gyp

by the bridle and lead him in, and presently return leading out

Fleetfoot, Old Hurricane's racer, upon which he mounted and rode away.

The next morning, while Capitola was dressing, her groom rapped at the

door and, in great dismay, begged that he might speak to Miss Cap one

minute.

"Well, what is it, Jem?" said Capitola.

"Oh, Miss Cap, you'll kill me! I done been got up long afore day and

gone to Tip-Top arter Gyp, but somebody done been stole him away afore

I got there!"

"Thank heaven!" cried Capitola, to little Jem's unspeakable amazement.

For to Capitola the absence of her horse meant just the escape of Black

Donald!

The next minute Cap sighed and said: "Poor Gyp! I shall never see you again!"

That was all she knew of the future!

That morning while they were all at breakfast a groom from the stables

came in with a little canvas bag in his hand, which he laid, with a

bow, before his master.

Major Warfield took it up; it was full of gold, and upon its side was

written, in red chalk: "Three hundred dollars, to pay for Fleetfoot.--Black Donald, Reformed

Robber."

While Old Hurricane was reading this inscription, the groom said that

Fleetfoot was missing from his stall, and that Miss Cap's pony, that

was supposed to have been stolen, was found in his place, with this bag

of gold tied around his neck!

"It is Black Donald--he has escaped!" cried Old Hurricane, about to

fling himself into a rage, when his furious eyes encountered the gentle

gaze of Marah, that fell like oil on the waves of his rising passion.

"Let him go! I'll not storm on my silver wedding day," said Major

Warfield.

As for Cap, her eyes danced with delight--the only little clouds upon

her bright sky were removed. Black Donald had escaped, to commence a

better life, and Gyp was restored!

That evening a magnificent old-fashioned wedding came off at Hurricane

Hall.

The double ceremony was performed by the bishop of the diocese (then on

a visit to the neighborhood) in the great salon of Hurricane Hall, in

the presence of as large and splendid an assembly as could be gathered

together from that remote neighborhood.