“Death was instantaneous,” he called. He bent his body over the handle-bar, and they watched him disappear rapidly around the turn in the road. Miss Farrar sighed with relief. “Thank you very much,” she said. As though signifying that to oblige a woman he would shoot any number of prisoners, the sergeant raised his hat. “Don’t mention it, lady,” he said. “I seen he was annoying you, and that’s why I got rid of him. Some of them amateur soldiers, as soon as they get into uniform, are too fresh. He took advantage of you because your folks were away from home. But don’t you worry about that. I’ll guard this house until your folks get back.” Miss Farrar protested warmly. “Really!” she exclaimed; “I need no one to guard me.” But the soldier was obdurate. He motioned his comrade down the road. “Watch at the turn,” he ordered; “he may come back or send some of the Blues to take us. I’ll stay here and protect the lady.” Again Miss Farrar protested, but the sergeant, in a benign and fatherly manner, smiled approvingly. Seating himself on the grass outside the fence, he leaned his back against the gatepost, apparently settling himself for conversation. “Now, how long might it have been,” he asked, “before we showed up, that you seen us?” “I saw you,” Miss Farrar said, “when Mr.--when that bicycle scout was talking to me. I saw the red bands on your hats among the bushes.” The sergeant appeared interested. “But why didn’t you let on to him?” Miss Farrar laughed evasively. “Maybe because I am from New York, too,” she said. “Perhaps I wanted to see soldiers from my city take a prisoner.” They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the smaller soldier. On his rat-like countenance was written deep concern. “When I got to the turn,” he began, breathlessly, “I couldn’t see him. Where did he go? Did he double back through the woods, or did he have time to ride out of sight before I got there?” The reappearance of his comrade affected the sergeant strangely. He sprang to his feet, his under jaw protruding truculently, his eyes flashing with anger. “Get back,” he snarled. “Do what I told you!” Under his breath he muttered words that, to Miss Farrar, were unintelligible. The little rat-like man nodded, and ran from them down the road. The sergeant made an awkward gesture of apology. “Excuse me, lady,” he begged, “but it makes me hot when them rookies won’t obey orders. You see,” he ran on glibly, “I’m a reg’lar; served three years in the Philippines, and I can’t get used to not having my men do what I say.” Miss Farrar nodded, and started toward the house. The sergeant sprang quickly across the road. “Have you ever been in the Philippines, Miss?” he called. “It’s a great country.” Miss Farrar halted and shook her head. She was considering how far politeness required of her to entertain unshaven militiamen, who insisted on making sentries of themselves at her front gate.