On, boy, and waste no eyesight in
looking behind you. Push on; the bay is before us."
Thus speaking, guiding and encouraging the boy, the fearless
partisan kept on. In a few minutes they had rounded the thick
bay, and were deeply sheltered in a dense wood well known at that
period by a romantic title, which doubtless had its story. "My
Lady's Fancy. We are safe now, Lance, and a little rest will do
no harm."
The partisan, as he spoke, drew up his horse, threw himself from
his back, fastened him to a hanging branch, and, passing down to
a hollow where a little brooklet ran trickling along with a
gentle murmur, drank deeply of its sweet and quiet waters, which
he scooped up with a calabash that hung on a bough above.
Then, throwing himself down under the shadow of the tree, he lay
as quietly as if there had been no danger tracking his footsteps,
and no deadly enemy still prowling in the neighborhood and
hungering for his blood.
--From "Mellichampe."
DEFINITIONS:--Partisan, any one of a body of light troops,
designed to carry on a desultory warfare.
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