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"Why, what does all this mean?" asked Miss Harper amid her nieces' cries.

The ladies smiled; I glowered. "Take those horses by their heads and turn them to me!"

The note of patriotism righted me and I looked a third time. The one art of dress worth knowing in '63 was to slight its fashions without offending them, and this pretty gift I had marked all day in the Harpers. But never have I seen it half so successful as in the veiled horsewoman illumined by the side-lights of those burning fence-rails. The white apparition at the veranda's edge gleamed in my mind, yet swiftly faded out, and a new fascination, more sudden than worthy heaved at my heart. Then the fire was behind us and we were in the deep night.

Was all the sound we heard.'

"Cruel to you?" I took her hand from my arm and held it.

"And was care for me your only motive in--"

I explained. While doing so I saw one of the guard reaching the prisoner's bridle to the other. Hah! Oliver had slapped the bridle free. In went his spurs! By a great buffet on the horse's neck he wheeled him, and with the rein dangling under the bits went over the fence like a deer. "Bang! bang! bang!"

"We'll call it yours now," he replied. "Kendall picked it up, but he has no need of it."

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