Sure enough, the house was surrounded and a company was stationed at the big gate. The family stood together on the piazza, pale with fear, for they never knew what would happen in those troublous times. The officer in command told them that they were in need of fresh horses to make a raid, and had orders to "press" any into service that they could find. Turning to a soldier he said, "Take that horse from the buggy, saddle him and see if he is fit for use." This caused the girl some uneasiness about her friend's horse, but she hoped the side-saddle would save him, as it had done when the Southern army were pressing horses. Anxiously she waited and listened. When the man returned, the Colonel said, "Try the other one." The girl was trembling now; the horse was not hers, it was the only one the family with whom she boarded could use to send to mill, or for a physician in case of illness; and she felt that she could not give him up without an effort to save him. "Surely, sir, you are not going to take a schoolgirl's horse for the Federal Government!" He smiled and asked her if she could swear that the horse was hers. She told him no, the horse belonged to a schoolgirl friend. He looked incredulous and said that he suspected it belonged to a rebel soldier; and, bowing an apology, again spoke to the man, "Try that horse." Like a flash a thought came to the girl. She would not plead or beg,--she was too proud for that,--but she said: "Colonel, let me try him for you." "Very well," he replied, much amused. "Bring him up, Lieutenant." The girl had no time or chance to ask advice from anyone; but she _wore the sharp steel spur_. The Colonel politely offered to assist her in the saddle, but she sprang up without touching his hand. Dressed in white muslin, with braided hair looped back with pink rosebuds; without gloves, hat or riding skirt, she slowly started down the avenue in front of the house. She let the horse shamble along in the ugly way he liked until he reached the large gate where the company of soldiers were stationed. They looked surprised to see her riding down alone on one of the horses they had stopped to take, but thinking it must be all right, as the Colonel was in view, they lined up, saluted respectfully, and let her pass out. When she was beyond the last guard, she said, "Now, Beauty, fly!" and, as she used the spur freely, they did fly. For some distance they were in full view of the Colonel and her friends who stood waiting on the piazza for her return, then a curve in the road put her out of sight.