Some of the party had dismounted and were advancing. “Yes, keep back! keep back!” warned Colonel Morland with both arms outstretched. “Great King! he is a woman!” exclaimed one of the horsemen, as he saw Mara’s long hair falling down her neck and shoulders. “Woman or devil,” cried the leader, “seize her. She is Cavalry Curt; or the one in league with him.” Mara was armed and she had so far recovered her self-possession as to bid defiance to them. “She means business,” ejaculated the foremost of the would-be captors. “Fire and furies!” roared the chief, urging his horse forward to the front of his men, “we----” But Mara’s ringing tone checked his speech. “Advance another step at the peril of your life.” “Traitors!” hissed the others, “your lives shall pay for this.” “Explain your errand,” said Colonel Morland, again speaking. “My doors are open to the al----” “Old man, lie. By your side stands as great a traitor as you ever knew. We want him or her as the case may be and we----” The sharp report of a rifle suddenly drowned his speech. With a low groan Colonel Morland sank to the floor. “You have killed him! You have killed him!” moaned Mara, falling upon her knees beside him. The Confederate chief looked amazed. “Who fired that shot?” he inquired. No one answered. At that moment, too, a new actor appeared on the scene. It was the scout, Boyd Wyman, who, wounded, had remained at her home while Mara had gone on her perilous mission to Dalton. He moved with the greatest difficulty, but succeeded in reaching the doorway. “What have you done?” he cried, sharply. “It was a dastardly shot!” he went on as no one replied. Mara was weeping bitterly. “Who are you?” queried the chief. “Boyd Wyman; and I can vouch for these people’s loyalty even as I can my own.” “It is Boyd Wyman!” averred one of the soldiers. “They said he was wounded and stopping up here.” “Is the old man seriously hurt?” asked the leader, moving in his seat uneasily. “Yes,” replied the scout; “he has received his death wound.” “I am sorry, for we meant him no harm. Who is that beside him?” “Mara Morland, his grand-daughter. She has just returned from Dalton where she has been to bear dispatches for me, as I have got a chunk of lead in my leg and cannot walk. But what means this piece of unwarranted work? You have the old man’s life to answer for.” “We were after Cavalry Curt,” replied the other, doggedly. “He has escaped, and that chap by the old man helped him to do it.” “You know better; but go your way and leave peaceful folks alone. You have done mischief enough already.” “It ain’t come out just as I expected. Reckon though we’ll keep an eye on this place. Sergeant Goodale, I will leave ten men here under your charge as guards, see that no one leaves it. You will be held accountable for every life here.” “Yes, captain. Reckon we shan’t sleep on our post.” “I can trust you. Boyd Wyman, will you go to Dalton with us?”