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His smile darkened. "I am your prisoner," he said, with a sudden splendid stateliness, and right then I guessed who he was.

The three laughed again and the men sank their carbines across their laps, while in a voice as refined as her figure their companion said, "Good-evening, Mr. Smith." She laid back her veil and even in the darkness I felt the witchery of her glance. "I was just coming to meet you," she continued, "to get the letter you're bringing me from General Austin. I feared you might try to come around by Fayette, not knowing the Yankees are there. These gentlemen didn't know it." "She just did save us!" laughed the man hitherto silent.

"They're going down into the woods together!"

"Good-morning, Smith, who is your prisoner?"

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