Chapter 3

The thudding feet came nearer. A bugle call--a rattling of accouterments and then, from the other side of the hedge, came a half dozen troopers in blue, led by a Sergeant with a red face and bloodshot eyes.

"This way, boys!" the Sergeant shouted, and at the sound of a harsh, never-forgotten voice Uncle Billy's grasp on his ax grew tighter. "_I_ know the place--I've been here before. _We'll_ get the liquor and silver while the Colonel is stealing the horses, eh?" Then his eyes fell on Uncle Billy and he greeted him with a yell of recognition. "Hello, you black old ape! Come down and show us where you buried the silver and the whisky. Oh, you won't? Then I'll come up and get you," and he lurched forward.

"Look here, white man," Uncle Billy shouted, lifting the rusty ax high in the air, "you stay whar you is. Ef you come up dem steps I'll split yo' ugly haid! I know you, Jim Dudley," he cried. "Mars' Cary done give you _one_ horse whippin', an' ef you hang aroun' here you'll get anudder one!"

Furious at the recollection of his shame of a few years back when he had been overseer on this same plantation, the Sergeant rushed up the steps and knocked the ax aside with his gun barrel. "Yes, he did whip me, burn him, and now I'll do the same for you." Seizing Uncle Billy by the throat he pushed him against the house.

Instantly the door swung open. Mrs. Cary, her head held high, her beautiful dark eyes blazing with wrath, stood on the threshold.

"Stop it!" she commanded in tones that brooked no disobedience even from a drunkard. "Let my servant go--instantly!"

Astounded at this sudden apparition the man shrank back for a moment, but almost as quickly regained his bluster.

"Ah-hah, the beautiful Mrs. Cary, eh! I'm glad to see you looking so well--and handsome."

The words might as well have been spoken to the wind for all the notice that the woman paid them. With only a gesture of mingled contempt and loathing she stepped to the railing and called to the grinning troopers below. "Who is in command here?"

To her horror only Dudley answered.

"_I_ am," he said, triumphantly. He thrust a menacing face close to hers and ordered her curtly. "And I'd just as soon have _you_ get me a drink as the nigger. Come on, fine lady."

Intent on insulting this woman whose husband had once cut his back with a whip the man caught her by the arm and roughly tried to pull her to him. But before he could accomplish his purpose retribution fell on him with a heavy hand.

Through a gap in the hedge an officer at the head of a dozen troopers appeared. One look at the scene on the veranda and Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison, with a smothered cry, dashed up the steps.

"You beastly coward," and catching the drunkard by the collar he twisted him around and hurled him thudding and bumping down the steps. "Dudley, I ought to have you shot." He swept his arm out and gave voice to a ringing command. "Report to Lieutenant Harris--at once--_under arrest!_ Corporal! Take his gun." He paused a moment as a brother of the man now under arrest stepped forward with a sullen face and obeyed orders. Running his glance over the line of faces, now suddenly vacant of expression, he whipped them mercilessly with his eye. "You men, too, will hear from me. Go to the stable and wait. Another piece of work like this and I'll have your coats cut off with a belt buckle! Clear out!"

Then he turned to the beautiful woman in white who stood only a few feet away, no longer timid but in entire possession of her faculties before what, she knew, might prove a greater danger than a drunkard.

"Madam," said the Union officer as he doffed his hat, "I couldn't apologize for this, no matter how hard I tried; but, believe me, I regret it--deeply."

In answer she slowly raised her heavy lidded eyes and gave him her first thrust--smoothly and deftly.

"No apology is demanded," she murmured in soft tones. "I was merely unfamiliar with the Union's method of attack."

"Attack!" he repeated, astounded, and stepped back.

"What else?" she asked, simply. "My home is over-run; my servant assaulted--by a drunken ruffian."

"The man will be punished," was the stern reply, "to the limit of my authority."

"He _should_ be. We know him," the Southern woman said bitterly. "Before the war he was our overseer. He was cruel to the negroes and my husband gave him a taste of his own discipline--with a riding whip!"

"Ah, I see," Morrison nodded. "But it is not always in an officer's power to control each individual in the service--especially at such a time. Yet I assure you on the part of the Union--and mine--that there was no intention of attack."

Mrs. Cary had chosen this moment in which to draw her visitor off the veranda and when she had successfully brought him to the foot of the steps she looked up in smiling sarcasm with another thrust.

"Oh! Then since your visit would seem a _social_ one--how may I serve you, sir?"

Morrison laughed lightly. This pretty cat could scratch.

"I'm afraid, dear madam, you are wrong again. My detachment is on foraging duty. It is not a pleasant task--but our army is in need of horses and supplies, and by the rules of war, I must take what I can find."

"Even by force?" came the quiet inquiry.

"Yes, even force," he answered, reddening. "With its proper limitations. I rob you, it is true, but by virtue of necessity. In return I can only offer, as I would to every other woman of the South, all courtesy and protection at my command," and Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison, for the second time, took off his hat.

The Southern woman swept him a curtsey filled with graceful mockery.

"I thank you. There is consolation--and even flattery--in being plundered by a gentleman." She made a short gesture which took in house, plantation and all the Cary possessions. "I regret sincerely that we have nothing left; yet I beg you--help yourself."

Colonel Morrison bit his lip, half in vexation and half in amusement. "At least you make my undertaking a difficult one, although I must admit, I hardly blame you." And then, with a quick, searching look, "Are there any rebels hidden in your house?"

"No," she answered.

"No wounded officers--or refugees of any kind?"

"None."

"You give me your word for this--your oath?"

The Southern woman's head went up and her eyes flashed. "I do," she said contemptuously and moved away.

"Thank you," was the grave reply, and he turned to dismiss his men. Then a thought struck him and he detained her with a gesture.

"Pardon me, but if it _was_ true--if a brother or a father--was concealed in there--wouldn't your answer be the same?"

The answer that came proudly back did not amaze him. "I would try to protect them--yes! Even with a _perjury_!"

"Ah!" he said sharply. "Then, don't you you see, you tie the hands of courtesy and _force_ me to--to this invasion of your home. _Corporal!_ Make a search of the house for hidden arms or stragglers and report to me. If any rebels are found--bring them out. Wait," he ordered, as the Corporal promptly started forward, "nothing else, _whatever_, must be taken or molested."

"One moment," commanded Mrs. Cary in her turn and beckoned to Uncle Billy who had been standing by in silence. "William! conduct these soldiers through my house--and show them every courtesy. If the Colonel's orders are not obeyed, report to me."

"Yas'm," grinned Uncle Billy, with an opera bouffe salute. "Ev'ry molestashun I'se gwine report."

Morrison laughed outright. "I'm sorry you still have doubts of my honorable intentions. May--may my soldiers go in now? Thank you."

He walked away a few steps, then turned and looked at her where she sat on the bench demurely sewing. It occurred to him that she was _too_ demure. Besides, he had discovered something.

"Er--it is true that I found your stable empty," he said, while his eyes probed hers, "but, curiously enough, it seems to have been recently occupied."

"Yes?" was the non-committal reply.

"Yes," he echoed, with a touch of iron in his voice. "And you can insure our leaving you more quickly if you will tell me where these horses have been hidden."

Mrs. Cary did not raise her eyes.

"Granted that we _had_ them," she said, "I'm afraid I must trouble you to look for them. Otherwise there would be no sense in trying to protect my property."

"Right again," he acknowledged, but did not swerve from what he had to do. "Orderly," he commanded, "report to Lieutenant Harris at the stables and have him hunt the woods and swamp for hidden horses. Hurry! We must leave in half an hour."

As Morrison spoke his eye fell on the roadway and he started perceptibly. When he turned back to the woman on the bench it was with a sterner light in his eye.

"I also notice that a horse has recently been fed and watered in your carriage road. _Whose was he?_"

Again that smooth, soft voice with its languid evasions. "We have several neighbors, Colonel. They visit us at infrequent times."

"Undoubtedly," he conceded. "But do you usually feed their horses?"

She smiled faintly. "What little hospitality is ours extends to both man and beast."

"I can well believe it," he replied, for he saw to cross-examine this quick witted woman would be forever useless. "And in happier times I could wish it might extend--to me.

"Oh, I mean no offense," he interrupted as Mrs. Cary rose haughtily. "I only want you to believe that I'm sorry for this intrusion."

She raised her eyebrows faintly and sat down again. "And was that the reason why you asked about my neighbor's horse?"

"No," he said quickly, and as suddenly caught and held her eye. "There's a Rebel scout who has been giving us trouble--a handsome fellow riding a bay horse. I thought, perhaps, he might have passed this way."

If he had thought he would detect anything in her face he was once more mistaken.

"It is more than possible," Mrs. Cary remarked with a touch of weariness. "The road out there is a public one."

"And where does it lead to, may I ask?"

"That depends upon which way you are traveling--and which fork you take."

"Possibly. But suppose you were riding north. Wouldn't the right fork lead to Richmond--and the left swing around toward the river crossing?"

"As to that I must refer you to a more competent authority," she answered with a hint of some disclosure in her tones.

"Who?"

"Mr. Jefferson Davis," she replied and almost laughed outright as he turned away to hide his vexation. This was an easy game for her to play--and every moment she gained added to Herbert's safety. But if only she could hear those three shots from across the river.

"Well, Harris?" said Morrison as his Lieutenant strode up.

"I have to report, sir, that we've gotten what little hay and corn there was in the stables and are waiting for your orders."

"Very well," and Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison's incisive words rang mercilessly in the listening woman's ears. "Pick out the best shots you have among your men and send them at the gallop down this road to the river crossing. String them along the bank, dismount them and have them watch as they've never watched before. You understand? Now _hurry_!"

If ever a woman hated a man, or rather the crushing force he typified, then Herbert Cary's wife hated this clear headed, efficient Northerner, who was now discovering how he had been delayed and thwarted. Yet she had plenty of spirit left, for as Corporal Dudley and his file of troopers emerged from the house she stood up and caught Uncle Billy's eye.

"Well, Corporal?" asked Morrison.

"Well, William?" asked Mrs. Cary.

"It's all right, Miss Hallie," Uncle Billy grinned. "Dey ain't took nothin'--not a single thing."

"Thank you, William," said Mrs. Cary, having triumphed again. "And thank _you_, gentlemen." With a bow to Morrison she went superbly back to her seat under the trees. But as she went it took all her strength of will to keep from crying. Down the carriage road a squad of cavalry was galloping furiously towards the river. And still she had not heard the three shots.

"Now, then, Corporal, you found what?"

"Nothing, sir. We hunted from cellar to roof. No arms and no rebels."

"H'm," he mused. "Anything else?"

"Three bedrooms, sir. All in use."

"Three?" Colonel Morrison exclaimed. "Very well. That's all. I'll join you in a moment." Then he turned to Mrs. Cary, his face stern with resolve.

"Madam," he said crisply, "you are not alone on this plantation with only this old negro. We are wasting time. I'm after a Rebel scout and _I want him_. Which way did he go?"

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, quite ready to play her game again. "But our Rebel scouts usually neglect to mention their precise intentions."

"Perhaps. If this one went at all. Is he still here?"

"I should imagine--_not_."

"Then he did go this way--to the river crossing?"

Once more he caught and held her eyes and thought he would read the truth in spite of anything she might say.

But while he looked he saw her strained face suddenly relax--saw the anxiety flee from her eyes--saw heart and soul take on new life. From far away across the river had come some faint popping sounds, regularly spaced--_three shots_.

"Ah!" he said, in wonder. "What is that?"

"It _sounds_," laughed Herbert Cary's wife, "like firing. But I think it is a friend of mine saluting me--from the safe side of the river. Good evening, Colonel," and she swept by him. She could go find Virgie now.

Just then came the sound of a horse, galloping. Up the road came a trooper, white with dust, his animal flecked with foam.

"For Colonel Morrison. Urgent," he rasped from a dry throat, as he thudded across the lawn and dismounted. "From headquarters," and he thrust out a dispatch, "I'm ordered to return with your detachment."

Snatching the dispatch from the man's hand Morrison ran his eye over it--then started visibly.

"Orderly! Report to Harris double-quick. Recall the men. Sound boots-and-saddles. Then bring my horse--_at once!_ Any details?" he asked peremptorily of the courier.

"Big battle to-morrow," the man answered. "Two gunboats are reported coming up the river and a wing of the Rebel army is advancing from Petersburg. Every available detachment is ordered in. You are to reach camp before morning."

"All right. We'll be there." Then, as the bugle sounded, "Ride with us," he said, and strode over to where Mrs. Cary stood, arrested by the news.

"Madam, I must make you a rather hurried farewell--and a last apology. If ever we meet again, I hope the conditions may be happier--for you."

"I thank you, Colonel," the proud Southern woman said sincerely, with a curtsy. "Some day the 'rebel scout' may thank you also for me and mine." And with a smile that augured friendship when that brighter day should come she passed out of his sight among the trees.

For a moment he watched her, proud at least that this proud woman was of his own race, then saw that the old negro, her only protector, still guarded the house.

"Here, old man," he commanded, "go along with your mistress and take care of her. I'll be the last to leave and see that nothing happens to the house."

"Yas, seh. Thank'e, seh," said old Uncle Billy, coming down. "If all of 'em was only lek you, seh--"

Uncle Billy suddenly turned and looked up at the house, his mouth open in consternation. With a cry of anguish he pointed to an upper window.

"Look what dey done done," he shrieked. "Aw, Gawd a'mighty! Look what dey done done!"

A cloud of smoke was rolling from the windows, shot through with yellow jets of flame. There was the sound of clumsy boots on the stairs and the door was thrown open. Dudley, escaped from arrest, ran out with a flaming pine torch in his hand.

"Halt!" cried Morrison, with raging anger. "Dudley! HALT!"

But Dudley knew that there would be little use in halting and so ran on until a big revolver barked behind him and he pitched heavily forward on his face. Morrison looked down on the prostrate form and his lips moved sadly, pityingly:

"And I promised her--protection!"