At last there came a knocking at the front door. The host left the kitchen, went into the hallway, and opened the door. He had a brief parley with some one; then the door closed, and he reentered the room. Watson thought he could distinguish the sound of a horse's hoofs as an unseen person rode away. "Who's coming to see you this kind of night?" asked the wife. It was a natural question. It had once more begun to rain; there were flashes of lightning and occasional rumbles of thunder. "A note of some kind from Farmer Jason," explained the clergyman. "I hope his daughter is not sick again." "Perhaps the horse has the colic," suggested one of the girls, who had gentle blue eyes like her father's, "and he wants some of your 'Equine Pills.'" "Who brought the letter?" enquired the wife. "Jason's hired man--he said he hadn't time to wait--had to be off with another letter to Farmer Lovejoy--said this letter would explain everything." "Then why don't you open it, pa, instead of standing there looking at the outside; you act as if you were afraid of it," spoke up the dark-eyed girl, who was evidently a damsel of some spirit. "Here, you may read it yourself, Cynthia," said her father, quite meekly, as if he had committed some grave offense. He handed the envelope to the dark-eyed girl. She tore it open, and glanced over the single sheet of paper inside. Then she gave a sharp cry of surprise, and darted a quick, penetrating glance at Watson. He felt uneasy, although he could not explain why he did. "What's the matter?" asked the minister. "Anything wrong at the Jasons'?" "Anything wrong at the Jasons'," Miss Cynthia repeated, contemptuously. "No; there's something wrong, but it isn't over at Jasons'. Listen to this!" She held out the paper at arm's length, as if she feared it, and read these lines: "Pastor Buckley, "Dear Sir: "This is to notify you as how I just have had news that a party of Yankee spies is at large, right in our neighborhood. They stole a train to-day at Big Shanty, but they were obleeged to jump off only a few miles from here. So you must keep on the lookout--they are around--leastwise a boy and grown man have been seen, although most of the others seem to have gotten away. One of my sons--Esau--caught sight of this man and boy on the edge of the river late this afternoon. He says the boy had a dog. "Yours, "Charles Jason." After Miss Cynthia finished the reading of this letter there was a silence in the room almost tragic in its intensity. Watson sprang to his feet, as he threw his pipe on the hearth. Waggie woke up with a whine. The Reverend Mr. Buckley looked at Watson, and then at the sleeping boy in a dazed way--not angrily, but simply like one who is grievously disappointed. So, too, did Mrs. Buckley and her blue-eyed daughter. Finally Miss Cynthia broke the silence.