“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!” CHAPTER IV. A FEARFUL ALTERNATIVE. The accusation was so sudden that she started back with an exclamation of terror. “And you shall be made to tell!” he continued, fiercely, seizing her rudely by the shoulder. “Back, ruffian!” she cried, with flashing eyes, breaking from his clutch. “Don’t let her escape!” commanded Captain Dermot. “She is in league with the Yankee dog.” At that moment a loud commotion in the hall below caught their attention. “What’s up?” cried Dermot running to the head of the stairs. “We’ve got the old man; but he fit like a wild-cat.” “Bring him up here at once.” In spite of his resistance Caleb Morland was dragged up the stairs. “What means this treatment, Captain Dermot?” said the old man, as soon as he could speak. “No harm to you, colonel. Perhaps the boys are a little rough though. Release him, boys.” “There, colonel you are a free man. We are in search of a Yankee spy who is hiding somewhere on your premises.” “A Yankee spy hiding on my premises!” repeated Colonel Morland in amazement. “Impossible, Captain Dermot.”