That her welcome had been a hearty and a loving one she had no doubt. For her own part she felt a growing affection for these American relatives; but she was still greatly perplexed to find herself in the midst of so much gayety and laughter during a fiercely fought war. The face she had seen at the window was so filled with misery that the cheerfulness of her surroundings seemed, not quite right and brought back to her mind a vivid recollection of the wretchedness she had witnessed on her brief passage through the Confederate Army. Could it be that those behind the Southern fighting line did not care what was happening to their soldiers? She shook her head in denial of this possibility and was still puzzling the matter when there came a gentle knock at her door. “Come in,” she whispered, and Harriot tiptoed into the room with a plate of goober pralines in her hand. “April would say we should be in bed,” she announced in an undertone with a glance at the wall between the two rooms; “but when she has girls staying with her, she thinks it’s all right if they sit up half the night, gossiping and giggling and eating pralines. She thinks we’re children,” she ended in a tone of disgust. “Well, we’re growing up,” said Dorothea philosophically. “I’m nearly as tall as she is.” “And I had to have a band put around my skirts I’ve grown so,” Harriot declared with a hint of pride. “They’ve been let down till there isn’t any more material left to let!” While Harriot was speaking Dorothea had become aware of a strange and menacing sound afar off. “Listen, Harriot,” she murmured, “what is that queer noise?” “It’s the hounds!” Harriot answered after a moment. “They’re out after some one, and they seem to be getting nearer.” She jumped up and, putting out the light, ran to the window. “Hounds?” questioned Dorothea, going quickly to her side. “Do you mean dogs?” “Yes, of course,” Harriot replied. “They’re out after some one. They use the hounds to track servants who run away.” “Would they use them to find that Yankee prisoner who had escaped?” Dorothea asked a little breathlessly. “Oh, they’re sure to. Maybe that’s who they _are_ after. Listen! They are coming nearer—I think I can hear horses galloping.” Undoubtedly the noises of the man-hunt were louder and Dorothea felt a clutch of pain at her heart. Was the poor man she saw at the window that night to be caught by hounds? She shuddered at the thought. CHAPTER VIII INCREASING MYSTERY The baying of hounds and at length the rapid tread of horses’ hoofs reached their ears, growing more distinct each instant. “They are coming this way,” Harriot murmured under her breath. “Why should they come here?” Dorothea demanded, beginning to feel more and more apprehensive.