“Saints preserve us!” howled Tim Moriarity. “Don’t yez shoot me! don’t!” and releasing Andy he leaped behind the nearest tree for protection. The alarm had now sounded, and from across the plantation clearing the young Confederate saw half a dozen Union soldiers approaching on a run. They were all armed and one called to the picket to know what was up. “It’s a Johnny Reb!” yelled the Irishman. “He was afther thryin’ to murdher me, so he was!” “There he is; I see him!” cried the under officer, who accompanied the squad. “Halt, or we fire!” he commanded. By this time Andy was in the water of the inlet, wading as rapidly as possible after the fast receding flatboat. He had just clutched the rudder-lock when several reports rang out and he felt himself struck in the shoulder: A pain like that of a thousand needles shot through his body, his grasp relaxed, and then he knew no more. It was not until several hours later that he came to himself. At first he knew nothing, but that he was lying on a soft and warm couch in a dimly-lit room, and that there was a faint murmur of voices around him. Then he saw the faces of a kindly-looking woman and an elderly man, as both bent over him. “Will he live, surgeon?” asked the woman. “I think so. But the poor fellow has had a narrow escape,” was the reply of the medical man. “A narrow escape, indeed, to be shot and then half drowned. And he is so young, too; why nothing but a boy, one might say.” “Certainly young for a cavalryman, Mrs. Lemming. But then, you see, these Southerners are all crazy to fight, boys as well as men. Can I leave him here for the present, or shall I send down a stretcher and have him removed?” “No, no; leave him here for the present. It might prove fatal to move him. I will do my best for the poor boy.” “I don’t doubt but that you will, madam. To be sure, he is an enemy, but in such cases no one with a heart can make any distinction.” “True, sir, and one must remember also, that, at the end, we are all God’s creatures,” concluded the woman, solemnly. “On the Day of Judgment He will judge us by His rule of conduct, and not by our own.” Andy scarcely heard the last words. But in a dim manner he realized that he was among friends, even though they were of the enemy, and then consciousness again forsook him. It was morning when he opened his eyes once more, and the sunshine was streaming across the plantation fields and into the window of the room he occupied. Feeling a trifle stronger he essayed to sit up. Instantly there was a stir and a girl of fifteen came to him. “You must remain quiet,” she said sweetly, then turned and called out: “Mamma, he is awake.” Mrs. Lemming came instantly into the room. “You must remain quiet, Mr. Arlington,” she said. “It is the doctor’s order. You are badly wounded in the shoulder. We will take good care of you.”