The tramp of hoof, the flash of steel, The Rebels round her coming! The sound and sight hath made her calm. Sham soldier, genuine woman! She stands amid them all unmoved! The heart supported by the loved Is strong to meet the foeman.—E. B. BROWNING. “These, at least, shall not be dishonored by anything done to me,” said Britomarte, as with her dagger she hastily cut and tore the captain’s straps from her shoulders, and threw them as far as she could send them. The sky was clearing, and it was much lighter than it had been as the marauding party rode up. They dismounted at a short distance, and came prowling about on foot among the fallen, to slay the dying, rob the dead. Britomarte knelt by Justin and held his hand as they came up, and bent over the group. “Hullo! who have we here? A Yankee colonel, by all that’s lucky. And a Yankee spy to boot. Stoop down and examine him, Canstop. If he is badly hurt, we’ll put him out of his misery, and appropriate that fine suit of broadcloth that can be no farther use to him. If he is not, we’ll take him prisoner and give him a taste of Libby,” said one who seemed to be the leader of the squad. “Where are you hurt?” said the man called Canstop, who seemed, from his manner, to be some lower grade of hospital nurse. “In my leg, only, I think. I am weak from loss of blood, and stiff from certain bruises received, by my horse falling on me,” answered Justin, calmly. “All right; hand over your arms,” said the leader. “You will find my sword somewhere on the field, where I dropped it from my hand as I fell.” “Your revolver?” “Here it is,” said Justin, drawing it forth and delivering it up. “Your watch?” “I never before heard that watches were arms,” said Justin, as he passed over his costly chronometer. “Now your pocket book.” Justin smiled as he answered: “If it were not that I know you are backed up by a thousand precedents of your comrades, I should wonder that you, calling yourselves soldiers, should stoop to rob a wounded prisoner.” “Hold your noise, you blamed Yankee, and do as you’re bid, or it will be the worse for you.” “I have no pocket book with me,” answered Justin, calmly; “I left it at head quarters.” “Oh! expected to be whipped, did you, and so made sure of the money by leaving it behind. Just like your Yankee cunning.—Come, raise him up, some of you boys, and see if he can stand upon his legs,” said the leader, speaking to his men. Two of them lifted Justin up, but it was evident that he could not stand. “I see,” said the leader. “Lay him down again. Canstop, haven’t you got a stretcher somewhere handy?” “Yes, under the ash tree about a hundred yards from this.” “Go, some of you, and fetch it.” Two men started at a run, and quickly returned with the stretcher. And the wounded prisoner was lifted and laid upon it. They had now time to attend to the less important captive.