"Yes, and I helped mother search her. We were amazed when we saw, instead of a brazen-faced middle-aged woman, as we supposed a spy must be, a sweet young girl about my own age, looking as innocent as a pigeon. Our sympathies were with her, but mother performed her duty faithfully. We found nothing on her person or in her manner that would afford an excuse for a suspicion that she was a spy. She was released by the scouts, who offered her many apologies for detaining her. She had been too smart for them. While alone in the house, guarded by Peter Simons, she had eaten up Greene's letter, piece by piece. So secured from detection, she willingly submitted to our search, and told us frankly who she was. "'My name is Geiger--Emily Geiger,' she said. 'My father is a planter near Winnsborough, in Fairfield, and I am on my way to visit friends below.' "Wasn't she smart?" said the old lady. "She _was_ going to 'visit friends below'--Sumter and his men; _our_ friends likewise, for that matter. When the scouts dismissed her we took her to our house, gave her some refreshments, and urged her to stay with us until morning. But she could not be persuaded, saying the two armies were so near it might soon become impossible to reach her friends. Peter Simons had accompanied us home, and offered to escort Emily to her friends as a protector. She declined his offer, and rode away, bearing our silent blessings. We saw no more of her until some time after the war." "Did she reach Sumter's camp in safety?" I inquired. "Yes, and delivered Greene's message almost word for word as he had written it." Sumter and Marion joined forces, and hurried to Friday's Ferry, at Granby. Rawdon, baffled, did not attempt to cross the Congaree, but fled before the pursuing Americans toward Orangeburg, on the Edisto. "You say you saw no more of Emily Geiger until some time after the war," I remarked. "What was her fate?" "A happy one. She had married a rich young planter on the Congaree named Thurwitz. They had been on a visit at her father's house in Fairfield, and went out of their way to visit the scene of her exploit in 1781. They crossed the Wateree at Camden, as she had done before, visited the house in which she had been searched, and drove to our home to thank my mother for her kindness on that occasion. They had with them their sweet little baby, a few months old. Peter Simons was then my sister's husband, and at our house Emily stood face to face with her jailer of an hour. She freely told her story, and owned that she was much startled when Peter seized her bridle, but controlled her feelings. She told us of her dinner on Greene's letter, and thought how silly the young scout was in leaving her alone in the house while he guarded the door on the outside. Peter wasn't much of a Tory, and we all rejoiced that a kind Providence had protected Emily from detection.