“'For love-lorn swain in lady's bower Ne'er panted for the appointed hour As I, until before me stand This rebel chieftain and his band.' “I jist tell ye, Cap, I reckon thar ain't no guerilla a goin' ter poke his nose 'round yere 'less he 's a lookin' fer sudden death; thar's mighty few o' 'em ain't heerd o' Jed Bungay--Whut in thunder 's ther matter with yer gal?” He stopped suddenly, and stared at her; but before I could turn about in my chair one of the great dogs began to growl savagely, and Maria sprang forward and cuffed the surly brutes into rebellious silence. “It's hosses,” she said harshly. “Likely as not it's Red's gang. Now, Jed Bungay, yere's two lovely females fer ye ter pertect.” As I hastily sprang to my feet I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the partially opened door. Down the steep of the hill road there was slowly moving toward us on foot a small party of perhaps a dozen men, so variously clothed as to make it evident they were irregulars. Just ahead of them, but on horseback, two others were even then turning into the narrow path that led to the house, attracted probably by the smoke which streamed from the chimney-top. CHAPTER VIII MRS. BUNGAY DEFENDS HER HEARTHSTONE A hand pressing hard upon my arm brought back my scattered senses with a rush. It was Mrs. Brennan who stood there, her face whitened by anxiety, her eyes peering anxiously through the opening of the door. Imminent danger may startle even a trained soldier, but any necessity for action always recalls him to duty, and that one glance at her sufficed to make me myself again. “Surely those men are not soldiers, Captain Wayne!” she exclaimed. “They wear uniforms of both armies.” “No doubt they are guerillas,” I answered, drawing her back from where she might be seen in their approach. “We must find hiding if possible, for you shall never fall into such hands. Bungay!” I turned toward where the little giant had been sitting, but he was not to be seen. However, the sound of my voice aroused Maria to a full sense of our danger, nor was she a woman to hesitate in such emergency. With a single stride she crossed the narrow room, caught the white-faced hero by the collar of his shirt, dragged him ignominiously forth from beneath the table where he had sought refuge, shook him as she would shake a toy dog, until his teeth rattled, and then flung him out of the door leading into the back shed. It was done so expeditiously that I could only gasp. “Now inter ther hole with ye, Jed Bungay--you an' yer dorgs,” she panted furiously. “An' you uns foller him. I reckon I 'm able ter handle thet lot out thar, even if it should be Red Lowrie an' his gang.”