A TALE OE CIVIL STRIFE
r RANDALL PAPPISD
LUSTRATIONS S-CDPI10DES
'opy/i/c/ir ] 1)
ff<rcii//?c t<co. — — ——
8YNOPSI3.
CHAPTER I—Confederate Sereeent
Wyatt of the Staunton artillery is sent
us a spy to his native county on the Green
Briar by General Jackson.
CHAPTER II—W yatt meets a moun
taineer named Jem Taylor, with whom he
rides to a house beyond Hot Springs.
CHAPTER III—In the house Wyatt and
Taylor meet Major Harwood, father of
Noreen and an old neighbor of Wyatt,
Iwho is sent to bed while the two other
men talk. Wyatt becomes suspicious, and
finds that Taylor has murdered Harwood
and escaped.
CHAPTER IV—Wyatt changes to the
U. 8. cavalry uniform he has with him,
and rides away in the night, running into
a detachment of Federal cavalry, to
whom he identifies himself as Lieutenant
Raymond, Third U. S. cavalry, by means
of papers with which he lias been pro
vided. Captain Fox finds Harwood’s body
and follows Taylor's trail.
CHAPTER V—Fox and Wyatt believe
Taylor to be old Ned Cowan. The de
tachment Is ambushed. Wyatt escapes to
the Green Briar country and goes to Har
wood's apparently deserted home.
CHAPTER VI—Wyatt flrffls Noreen
Harwood alone in her home. She does
not recognize him. and lie introduces him
self as Lieutenant Raymond.
CHAPTER VII—Parson Nichols comes
to the house and tells Noreen of her fa
ther's death.
CHAPTER VIII—Wyatt forces Parson
Nichols to confess that he has been sent
In advance of Anse Cowan, who proposes
to marry Noreen at once, and so quiet
title to the land In dispute between the
Cowans and Noreen’s dead father.
CHAPTER IX—Anse Cowan and hla
gang arrive and find the preacher bound
In a closet. Wyatt and Noreen have con
cealed themselves In the attic.
cover was on hinges, and It slipped
over the edge of the hold noiselessly. !
We lay there pressed closely together
In silent suspense. We could distln
gulsh the opening and closing of
doors, and the sound of voices calling
to others on the floor below. Once
some fellow, apparently just beneath
us, ripped out an oath.
“Well, by God, Jack, do you suppose
Nichols has dared play such a durned
trick on me and squealed to the girl?"
“Hanged if 1 know,” was the sullen
reply. “Rut It don’t look like tbar was
a soul In the house.”
I felt her hand touch mine softly,
and bent my head until her Ups were
at my ear.
i nat was Anse Cowan," Bhe whis
pered. ‘‘I recognize that voice. What
do you suppose they will do now?”
My fingers tightened their grip; the
men below had moved on, their voices
grumbling along the hall.
“They will discover the preacher
presently,” 1 said, endeavoring to make
my words as reassuring as possible. “I
only wonder they have overlooked him
so long; I supposed he would make an
outcry.”
She drew in her breath sharply, and
sat up. The movement was noiseless,
but in the instant of intense silence
which followed, we heard below us the
sudden sound of struggle, a muffled
voice calling for mercy, the shuffling
of a body being hauled forward across
the floor. Then someone ran along the
hall, passing just beneath us.
“What have you found, Kelly?” It
was Anse's voice roaring out the ques
tion. “Ah! the old fox dug out of his
hole, hey! Now see here, you canting
old llaptist hypocrite, what kind of a
trick is it you are playing on me?
Stand him up there boys, against that
rail. Stop your howling, or I’ll smash
you one in the face. Where did you
find the fool, Jack?”
"Locked in a closet yonder; looks
like it might be the girl’s room. The
darn fool is too skeered ter talk yet.”
"Well, I’ll make him, er else thar'll
be a dead preacher in ’bout a minute.
1 reckon as how I'll do as much skeer
tug as anyone Now, Nichols, ye see
thet! Whut the devil wus yer doing
in thet closet?”
"They—they done put me thar.
Anse.”
“Go on. Who wus yere beside the
girl when yer cum?”
"A Yankee leftenant, a cavalryman
I reckon from ther yellow stripes on
his legs."
"A Yank! Did yer hear the fellar’s
name?”
“Damn if I’m sure; he's a right good
sized man, an’ not bad lookin’. Pears
to me, now I think ot it, she called him
Raymond."
There was a gasping sound as
though Anse’s hand had closed again
heavily on the fellow's throat.
“Raymond! I reckon yer lyin' ter
me, parson. Yer beard tell o' thet fel
ler over in camp, an’ ther uame stuck.
’Twont be healthy fer yer ter play no
game yere.”
“I ain’t, Anse. Quit a chokin’ me. I
never heard tell o’ no Yank named
Raymond afore. Be thar one ’round
yere?”
“Wall, thar was, but I don’t reckon
thar is now,” doubtfully. “Last I
heerd tell o’ him he wus over in Fay
ette a ridin’ like hell fer Charleston.
Monte’s band picked him up, an’ he
didn’t find this kentry none too healthy
fer his line o business, which was re
cruitin'—whut’s that, Kelly?"
"Better let ther preacher tell his
story, Anse. We're losin’ a lot o' time;
I reckon thar must a bin some kind o’
male critter yere; 'taint likely ther
girl locktd him up alone, an’ it don’t
make no odds whut the Yank'B name
wa_st nohow/! __ __ —
“Go on, Nichols; whut happened?
Tell us the whole of It, but make It
short."
The preacher drew in a long breath,
evidently relieved to have the pressure
of Anse’s murderous fingers removed
from his throat. He sputtered a bit as
he began to tell his story and there
were muffled words we could not dis
tinguish Occasionally someone of his
auditors interrupted with an oath, or
exclamation. He spoke faster as he
proceeded, as though feeling less fear,
and eager to have the task over. Final
ly Cowan interjected a brief question.
"You damn coward! Did you tell?”
“Honest, Anse, 1 don't jest know;
but I reckon I did spit it most out, fer
he d a killed me if I hadn’t.”
“Do you mean to say you told them
1 was cornin' yere tonight, an’ goin' fer
ter make the girl marry me—you
whinin’ cur?”
“How could 1 help it, Anse? I reckon
if thet feller hed a pistol et your head
you'd a did some talkin'. Maybe he’s
a recruitin’ officer, but he ain’t no
sorter man ter fool with onct he gits
mad.”
“Well, I’d sure like fer ter know who
he is. He can’t be ther feller what got
away from Monte, fer he lit out fer
Charleston. How did this yere feller
git yere—on horseback?”
“I didn’t git sight o’ no hoss; thar
wus only one tour-legged critter in
ther barn, an' I reckon as how the girl
must hev’ rode thet.”
“Say, Anse,” broke in the voice of j
Kelly, “I’ll bet this Yank is the one !
thet wus with Fox an' got away. He d
hed time nough fer ter git this fer on
fut.”
"But what does he call hisself Ray
mond fer?”
"Damn It I know—maybe he jest
heerd tell of the other feller, an
thought as how he'd git ’long easier
under thet name.”
"Well, 1 reckon it w^on't make much
difference whut the cuss' name is if
ever I git my hands on him,” growled
Anse savagely. "Go on, Nichols. What
became of them?”
“Skipped out, I reckon. I never seen
nuthing more ov 'em.”
Anse must have completely lost his
temper, for there was the sound of a
blow, and the noise of a falling body,
feet shuffling as the others drew back?"
Then a moment of silence.
“Pick the ol’ fool up,” said a voice.
“Throw him back Into the room thar.
Maybe he'll hev sum sense when he
wakes up. Kelly, take Jim with yer,
an' see if thet lioss is in ther stable
yet. If them two left on fut, they
You Damn Coward! What Did You
Tell?"
ain't gone tur In this storm. Enyhow
thar's one thing sure—they ain t a
hidin up yere. Cum on, boys, let's
take a 'nother look round down be
low.'”
We heard their feet on the stairs,
and the light which had streamed up
through the crack in the scuttle, faded
av*ty, leaving us in utter darkness.
CHAPTER X.
The Recognition.
1 began to understand the state of
affairs now, piecing this and that to
gether, lying there in the darkness,
listejilng for some sound ot' guidance
from below. I could hear the soft
breathing of the girl at my side, but
she did not speak or move. She had
overheard all that was said; she must
also realize fully the object of these
men, and the desperation of our posi
non. Would she continue to trust
me? To believe in my purpose, or hac
the words of betrayal spoken by Anse
Cowan and Kelly left a sting of sus
picion behind? If they had, would 1
dare to confess the truth, fully reveal
my identity, and Ihus leave the fate
of my secret mission in her hands.’
Her sympathies must naturally be
with the Union forces; she would see
the issues from the viewpoint of her
father. That would have nothing to
io with these banditti, but later might
greatly Interfere wllli the work to
which I had been assigned. 1 had two
duties to perform—to the army, and to
tliis helpless girl; which was para
mount if by any chance they clashed’
I could not answer, but 1 did compre
hend which came fi.st—I must save
Noreen Harwood from the merciless
clutch of Anse Cowan. 1 must remain
with her loyally, until she was safe in
the protection of friends. Possibly 1
could accomplish this, and still retain
my secret.
"Is there any other way out of here.
Miss Noreen?” I asked scarcely above
a whisper, "any opening leuding to the
roof?”
"I have never seen one, though often
up here when 1 was a child.’
“Then our only means of escape is
by the ladder, and we dare not venture
that until assured those fellows have
really left. Do you hear any sound
below ?”
We both listened in breathless si
lence, but no noise reached us with
any distinctness. 1 thought I caught
tho echo of a voice, but it sounded
from outside the house—possibly
someone yelling a report from the
stable.
"Shall I risk exploring?” I asked
doubtfully. “There is surely no one
on this floor except Nichols, and X
judge he has been knocked out for
some time. We can hardly wait here
for him to recover, and give us free
passage. What action do you think we
ought to take?”
“I certainly have no desire to re
main here longer than is necessary,”
she answered calmly, "but 1 do not be
lieve those men have all left the house.
Some may be outside in the storm
searching for trace of us, but there are
others surely on guard below. Did
you hear that? A knife fell on the
floor; someone is eating in the dining
room.”
"I am going to lift the scuttle; pos
sibly some light may filter up the
stairs.”
I was obliged to loosen it by the in
sertion of my knife blade, yet the
clamp yielded with but little noise,
and I peered eagerly down the open
ing. There was a lamp burning in the
lower hall, the reflection sufficiently
bright to reveal the general situation.
No men were visible, nor did l hear
any voices in conversation. One thing
was certain—the upper hall was com
pletely deserted, for 1 could see along
its entire length. 1 lifted my head, and
glanced back to where the girl re
mained silent, and motionless. My
eyes, long accustomed to the darkness,
could distinguish her outlines, even
the dim contour of her face. She sat
upright on the rough flooring, appar
ently regarding me intently.
"Po you find the way left clear?”
"So far as the upper hall is con
cerned—yes. There is a light turn
ing below, although I can perceive no
movement. They may be in the dining
, room, but 1 do not believe they will
search up here again.”
“No?” The slight rising inflection
stung me. What did her action mean?
Why should she so suddenly assume
that tone with me? The sooner 1 knew
the better.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Harwood,”
I said quietly, "but I fail to understand
why you should speak to me in this
manner. You have shown confidence,
trust, m my former efforts to serve
you, and 1 am just as eager now to be
of service.”
"You mean you wish me to have
complete confidence in you?”
“Certainly. I can do nothing other
wise.”
There was an instant of silence, in
which her breathing was plainly audi
ble. Beneath the shadow of an uplift
ed hand I felt that her eyes were upon
my face.
"Very well, then,” she said finally,
her voice more expressive of interest.
“It is surely no more than natural that
I should desire to know whom I have
the honor of talking with.”
“But do you not know?”
"No,” firmly and decisively. “You
heard what those men said—yet you
go on pretending to me. You are the
officer they referred to, are you not?”
"\Tes; I escaped when Fox s com
mand was attacked.”
"You were an officer in Captain
Fox's troop?”
"No; 1 joined him by accident at
Hot Springs.”
“Under what name?"
The utter uselessness of attempting
to lie was apparent. Her questions
were too direct, too straightforward,
for any further evasion. The slightest
quibbling now would cost me her
friendship forever. If 1 hesitated, it
was scarcely noticeable,
“Under the name,' 1 replied quietly,
“of Charles H. Raymond, lieutenant
Third U. S. cavalry, on recruiting
service.”
“Oh!1 the exclamation burst fcrth in
surprise at my frank avowal. “Then
you did not make that up merely to de
ceive me? You had been passing un
der that name with others. You had
taken it for a distinct purpose—a—a
military purpose?'
"I took it,' 1 said slowly, and delib
erately, my eyes looking steadily at
her, “because I knew such a Federal
officer had been detailed to service in
this neighborhood, if I have taken my
life in my hands to serve the cause of
the South it was in obedience to the
orders of my superiors.”
“Whose orders?”
"General Jackson directly; although
Robert E. Lee was present, and gave
tinal instructions’’
Her hands concealed her face, and I
could judge nothing as to its expres
sion; whether, or not, my words had
any weight with her. She sat motion
less. bent slightly forward. At last she
said slowly:
"I—I know enough of—of army life
to be aware that men are not ordered
I to such hazardous work—they are
] asked to volunteer. Only a brave man
would assume such a risk; only a
man who believed in himself, arid his
cause. 1—I like you better because
you have told me. I believe you are
honest, with me now. l did not know
what to do, or what to say before. J
knew you were not Raymond, and that
you were acting a lie—but could not
guess your purpose. What made it
xj/gp* 1,1 J
There Was the Sound of Chairs Being
Pushed Hastily Back.
harder to understand,” her voice hesi
tating slightly, "arose because there |
wa3 something about you so oddly fa
miliar; l—I felt that I ought to recog
nize your face; that somewhere we
had met before—have we?"
"Yea, Miss Noreen; 1 am Tom
Wyatt.”
“Why! Why, of course!” the swift
expression v.as one of intense relief i
"How stupid of me! Oh, I am so glad !
that 1 know. ’ To my surprise she
held out both hands impulsively. "Your
being a spy doesn't make any differ
ence now that I know who you really
are. It is no wonder 1 did not recog
nize you—why you were only a boy—*
“Not when you rode by my mother
and me on tl.e pike.”
“A year ago? 1 remember; yet 1
hardly caught a glimpse of you
through the dust. You were just a boy
' when you were here last. Why you
had long curls."
"And thought Noreen Harwood the
most beautiful littls girt 1 had ever
seen.”
“Why you—you are in even greater
danger than I.”
“Oh, no; from all I have seen and
heard the Cowans must be in sympa
thy with the South, or they never
would have made the attack on Fox’s
party', or held Lieutenant Raymond
prisoner. I had considered going di
rect to Anse, revealing my identity,
and demanding protection.”
Her hands grasped my sleeve.
“No, not that! You do not under
stand, Tom Wyatt. These men care
nothing for the issues of the war. They j
merely use them to cover up their own
lawless deeds, and to assist in work
ing out schemes of revenge. They are :
neither Federal, nor Confederate; they •
are robbers, murderers, and thieves.
Is Anse Cowan here tonight for any
purpose but his own? You realize
what that purpose is.”
"I have heard enough to make me
certain,” I answered. “He would force
you into marriage to thus gain control
of this property. The killing of Major
Harwood was part of the plan.”
“You know then of my father’s
death? You know that report to be
true? Why, you said you were with
Captain Fox at Hot Springs! Is It
so ?”
"Yes, Miss Noreen, it is true. I saw j
your father s body, and that of his!
servant Tom. I came across the raoun- !
tains with the man who killed them j
both. I supposed him to be a scout.
He called himself Jem Taylor, and
when they first met your father ad
dressed him by that name. They met
by appointment at a house a mile south j
of Hot Springs. Your father said noth- !
ing to you of such a man?”
“No; 1 saw him but for a moment
as he passed through Lewisburg on '
his way east. He was to meet a scout
beyond the mountains, but no name
was mentioned. What did the man
Taylcr look like?”
“I described him to Captain Fox.
and one of liis men. a sergeant, in
stantly pronounced the fellow to be
old Ned Cowan.”
‘‘Ned Cowan! Why, (hat could not
be! My father would never have an I
appointment alone with him. They
have been deadly enemies for years.”
‘‘That may be true, Miss Noreen. 1 j
can only tell you what little I know,
Your father might have been deceived;
drawn into a trap. He was there ap
parently by appointment to confer
with a man known to him as Taylor.
Who Taylor really was 1 cannot say—
but he was an enemy, not a friend, of
Major Harwood. 1 do not insist that
the fellow was Ned Cowan, but 1 am
sure he belonged to the gang. We
trailed him nearly to New River, ann
had gone into camp amid the mouij
tains when the Cowans attacked us In
niy judgment the killing of your fa
ther, and the raid on this house to
night, form part of the same plan.” |
1 do not think she was crying, al
though her face was buried in her
hands. 1 turned my eyes away, down
through the scuttle hole, but nothing
moved along the hall below. The house
seemed absolutely deserted, but the
lamp continued to burn, and yet. even
as 1 felt the strangeness ot such in
tense silence, a door slammed some
where in me distance, and 'a gruff
voice spoke.
CHAPTER XI.
Waiting the Next Move.
"Anse—Kelly, are either of you
there?”
There was the sound of chairs being
pushed hastily hack from a table, and
raj,id steps on the floor.
“Yes; what’s wrong? Have you
found something?”
"Sure; Bill an’ 1 saw them; they
were a tryin’ ter git the hoss; but
afore either of us could lire, they
sorter slipped long back o’ ther fence,
an’ got away. Its darker’n hell out
thar, an’ Bill sed fer me ter cum in
yt re an' tell yer that if you en Kelly
wild cut across the road, an’ sorter
head the cusses off we'd bag the two
easy.”
"Whar’s the rest of ther boys?”
"Ridin’ the Lewisburg pike accordin’
ter orders, I reckon, l.eastwise we
ain’t seen em since yer tol' us ter
watch ther stable. Bill an' 1 can't
round them up alone.”
‘ All right, Dave. Where are they
now?”
“In ther orchard, a creepln’ ’long
the fence. Bill’s followin’ ’em up, an
all you got ter do is run long the road
an' git ter the corner ahead o’ 'em
They can't go no other way.”
1 caught a glimpse of the two as
they crossed the lower hall hurriedly.
The lamp flickered in the draft of the
opened door, and one fellow swore
roughly, as he stumbled over some ob
stacle. Then the door closed, and the
flame steadied. In the silence we could
hear again the beating of rain on the
roof over head.
“Who do you suppose they could
have seen?" she asked.
"Shadows likely enough. Let them i
hunt. We know now the house is de
serted, and can hud more comfortable
quarters—perhaps even slip away be
fore anyone returns. You will go
with me?”
"Of course; 1 am not afraid of Tom
Wyatt.”
\\ e passed the ladder down slowly,
and carefully, until the lower end rest
ed securely on the floor below. If
Nichols had recovered from the effect
of the severe blow, he had made no
sound, and I had almost forgotten his
presence. I drew back, and permitted
the lady to descend first, holding the
upper supports firmly until her feet
touched the floor. It was a struggle
for me to force my larger bulk through
the narrow opening, but I succeeded
finally, and stood beside her. In the
brighter light I could perceive more
clearly the expression of the girl's
face, realized the friendliness of her
eyes. My frank confession had won
me her confidence; no matter where
her sympathy might be in this war
struggle my allegiance to the cause of I
the South was no serious barrier he-'
tween us; even the fact that I was
masquerading there in a stolen uni
form and under an assumed name, had
not greatly changed her trust in an old
playmate. My heart beat faster to this
knowledge, yet, in some way, although
I rejoiced, the recognition brought
with it a strange embarrassment.
“It sounds as though the storm was
harder than ever,” she said. “Where
shall we go?”
“My choice would be to hide In one
of these rooms, for the present, at
least. We could scarcely hope to get
the horse out of tlie stable unseen,
and, even if we did, we would be like
ly to ride into some of the gang."
“But they will return to the house.”
“Before they leave—yes; but it is
hardly probable they will search up
here again. Anse will be in 111-humor
enough when he decides we have real
ly escaped, but w ill never imagine that
our hiding place Is in the house. They
will give up by daylight, and then the
way will be clear.”
“And where will vou go?”
"Why,” In surprise. "I could not
leave you alone until I placed you in
the care of friends.”
"At Lewisburg, you mean?” S
“If that is w here you wish to go ”
Her eyes met mine frankly, but with
an expression in their depths 1 failed to
fathom.
“Not wearing that uniform," she
pair! quietly, “or under the name of
Lieutena.it Raymond. Do not misun
derstand. There i3 friendship between
us—personal friendship, the memory
of the past, a knowledge of the Inti
macy between your father and mine.
More, 1 am grateful to you for the
service you have been to me this
night; nor do I hold it against you that
you risk your life in the cause for
which you fight. But I am Union, Tom
Wyatt, and l cannot help you in your
work, nor protect you. When day
light comes I am going to say good by
—and forget that 1 have even seen
you."
"Rut,” I protested, "why could we
not_ part. If wo must, at I.ewisburg,
after 1 know you are safe?”
“There are Federal troops at Lewis
burg They know me. and their com
mander is aware of my acquaintance
with the officer whose name you have
assumed.”
“Yet, in a measure, at least you
trust me? I want you to consider me
a personal friend.”
“Why 1 do," her eyes opening widely.
"It is for your own protection 1 refuse
your escort to l<ewisburg. 1 am a
traitor to my flag not to take vou
there, and surrendei you a prisoner.
If—if I did not care t would. Hark!
That was a shot:'
"Yes, and another; they sound to
th(> west ot tlie house."
“In the orchard beyond the stable
t'an there really be someone hiding
there?'
"They are certainly firing at some
thing- there speaks another rifle
farther south. Those fellows will be
back presently, and we must toe out of
their way. What room is that beyond
the chimney?”
"It was used by the housekeeper.
I)o you know where Parson Nichols
was left?”
"In the room at the head of the
stairs; why yes, your room. Could.they
have killed the man?”
I pushed open the door, which stood
slightly ajar, and looked in. Nichols
had partially lifted himself by cling
ing to the bed. and his eyes mCt mine.
The marks of the savage blow with
which Cowan had floored him, were
plainly evident, and the man appeared
weak and dazed. Yet he instantly rec
ognized me, and crouched back in ter
ror. 1 stepped into the room, and
gripped his collar.
"Stand on your feet, man! Oh. yes,
you can; you're a little groggy yet no
doubt, but with strength enough for
that. Come; I'll hold you. Now, out
into the hall. Miss Harwood, may I
trouble you to open that door—yes,
tile housekeeper's room; we'll hide
ourselves in there. By Jove, that
sounds like a regular volley!”
I pushed the man forward, and flung
him down on the bed. still retaining
my grip on his collar.
"Not a move, or a sound, Nichols!
Attempt to betray us, and your life
is not worth the snap of a finger. Miss
Harwood close the door, and lock it.”
The same instant a vividcJIash of red
lit up the whole interior, the light glar
ing in through the unshaded windows,
and reflecting from the walls. Nichols
started up with a little cry of terror,
but i forced hfjn back.
"It is not the house,” I said stprnly.
“They must have fired the stable.
Keep dow n out of sight. Miss Noreen,
creep across to that nearest window
and take a glance out—be careful that
no one sees you. I'll keep guard over
our preacher friend."
She left us quietly, crouching close
against the wall, until she could safe
ly peer out from behind the fold of a
chintz curtain. The glow' from without
reddened the entire room. Nichols be
gan to groan, and mutter, but whether
the words were those of prayer, or not,
1 was uncertain. That the fellow's
brain tottered on the brink of total
collapse was evident, and I was too
fearful he might create alarm to de
sert my guard. Eager to learn what
had occurred I called across to the
girl:
“Is It the stable. Miss Noreen?”
“Yes,” with a quick glance back
ward. “The whole west end is ablaze.
I think there are horses picketed be
yond in the orchard, but am not sure
—yes, there are men there with them
The fire, as it blazes up, gives me a
better view."
“Can you teU how many?”
“No, but I didn’t suppose Anse Cow
an had so many with him, did you?”
"Why, really I cannot tell, for 1
have no conception either way. There
must have been a dozen altogether Id
I Flung Him Down on the Bed,
the house, and doubtless others were
on guard without. Hasn't it ceased
storming ?”
“Yes; l wonder what time it is; why
I actually believe the sky is becoming
lighter in the east already.”
She stared out intently, and then
sank to her knees.
"Come over here quick! They ara
getting ready for something.”
I swept my eyes over Nichols, who
lay motionless, his arms folded across
bia face. To my mind the fellow was
acting a part, and was not half as bad
ly injured as he pretended to be. How
ever, he could do 11s no great harm at.
present, and I stole silently across thw
room, and knelt beside her She held
the curtain aside, leaving just space
enough for my eyes. For an instant
the glow of the burning huilding blind
ed me, and intensified the surround
ing darkness. I shadowed my eyeg
with my hand.
“Where are the men you saw? To*
the left?”
“Yes—back under the trees, close
to the first negro cabin; see: just
where 1 point.”
O ice located I could perceive the
•hadowy outline, which grew more dis
tinct as 1 gazed. There were meat
there beyond doubt; it seemed to me
twenty or thirty, although it was im
possible to judge (lie number. Httt
the shadow seemed to be disinV’grat
ing. Bven as my eyes focused it. a
section moved to the right, and thcii
another swung into the open, circling'
along the orchard fence.
“There is a slew ot them.” 1 mut
tered unthinkingly “Anse meant to
have company at hts wedding."
“Oh, hush!" her hand caught my
sleeve. “They—they are coming bact
to the bouse now.”