“You cannot—you must not go!” she cried, excitedly. “You will fare no worse by staying here.”
“But captivity means death,” he declared, quickly; “and I prefer to die as becomes a soldier. I thank you, but——”
“Surely they will not kill you.”
“I shall be shot as a spy!”
“Not if I can save you. What can I do? Oh, I have it; I will secrete you where they cannot find you. Follow me.”
“It will imperil your own life. I can not do it.”
“No—no! Come, quick! See! they are almost here,” and she caught him excitedly by the arm.
Forgetting his wounds he followed her up the stairs.
Reaching the hall she led the way into one of the adjoining apartments.
“Where can you hide?” she said. “In that trunk. Will that do?”
He shook his head.
At the same time he glanced around the room.
The walls were sheathed with boards. Some wearing apparel was hanging in one corner: otherwise they were bare.
“If I could get off one of those boards.”
She comprehended his meaning.
“One of them is loose,” she replied. “Grandpa promised to nail it on this morning.”
While speaking she began to remove one of the boards that helped to form the partition.
“See! there is room for you to stand in and they will never think of looking there.”
“But what——”
“Don’t hesitate. I hear them in the yard. We have no time to lose. Go in there and leave the rest to me.”
He could do no better.
“Have good courage,” she said softly, “and I will answer for your safety.”
Before he could reply she had replaced the board.
She had barely time to hang the garments over the place, when a loud thumping was heard at the door.
Overcoming her fears as much as possible, she hastily descended the stairs.
Captain Dermot and his squad were at the door.
“Hilloa there!” cried the Confederate leader. “I should think you were all dead or run away.”
“What means this unceremonious summons, Captain Dermot?”
“We are after a cursed Yankee spy. Have you seen him pass this way, Miss Morland?”
“No, sir.”
“He rode a dark horse and——”
“But when I saw him he was afoot, captain,” interrupted one of his followers. “His horse must have played out.”
“You are sure he was coming this way?”
“As certain as I am that I am looking at you.”
“Then he can’t be far off. Are you sure you have not seen him, Miss Morland?”
“I might have seen him and not have known him,” she replied evasively. “Come to think of it a young man did pass near the house this morning. He was quite tall, and wore a citizen’s suit with a black, slouched hat. That much I noticed.”
“He is our man!” cried Captain Dermot, excitedly. “Come on, boys. We shall soon overtake him.”
“Hold on, captain!” exclaimed the flaxen-haired soldier who had ridden nearer to the house than any of the others, “here is something that tells a story if I’m not mistaken.”
As he spoke he raised on the point of his gun where it had lain by the door a fine silk handkerchief.
Mara uttered a low exclamation of dismay.
Quickly holding the handkerchief up to the gaze of the others they read the letters “C. R.” embroidered in one corner.
“They mean Curtis Remington—Cavalry Curt,” said the soldier with a smile of triumph. “He must have dropped it there.”
“And can’t be far away himself.”
“Perhaps he is hiding in this vicinity now.”
“More than likely. Miss Morland, you have deceived us.”
“Captain Dermot,” said Mara with quivering lips, “do you doubt my loyalty? I would rather die than betray the cause my brother has so nobly espoused.”
“I do not doubt it,” replied the Confederate, “but we must find that accursed spy if possible. General Johnston has offered a thousand dollars to the man who captures him. You will not object to our searching your buildings?”
“No—no. But is it necessary? Grandpa is away. Can’t you wait until he returns.”
“Delays are dangerous. Besides Cavalry Curt is no ordinary man. We must not waste any more time. Stand aside, Miss Morland, and let us begin our disagreeable task.”
She saw that it was madness to offer further opposition.
Leaving half his number to guard the buildings and see that no one escaped, Captain Dermot with the others began a search for the fugitive scout.
“Here is blood upon the stairs!” cried the sharp-eyed soldier who had discovered the tell-tale handkerchief. “He must have been wounded; he has gone this way.”
“You’re a brick, Logan!” exclaimed Captain Dermot, leaping up the stairs three at a time, “follow me, boys, and we’ll run the fox to his den. Ha! here is more blood!”
Mara’s hopes fell as she heard the startling words.
She had taken a great interest in the stranger scout and wished that he might escape.
Again it might fare ill with them were he found on their premises.
She heard the horde enter the very room in which the scout was concealed.
Her heart almost ceased its beating.
With trembling steps she ascended the stairs.
She was met on the second floor by the Confederate captain.
“We don’t find the hound,” he muttered. “But he can’t be far away.”
Then as a baleful light flashed from his piercing eyes he cried:
“Mara Morland, you know where he is!”