At this juncture, the door was opened by Rachel. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors.
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