Charlie, who had roused from his sleep, and fully comprehended what was going on, caught Tom around the neck, and nearly strangled him, as he said: “Let Maude alone, Captain Carleton. They’ll not harm her. They would only shoot you down for nothing.” Thus hampered and importuned, Tom stood back a little, while Maude held a parley with her besiegers threatening to shoot the first man who should attempt to pass her. She did not think of danger to herself, and she stood firmly at her post; while the men consulted together as to the best course to be pursued. And while they talked, and Maude stood watchful and dauntless the flames of Paul Haverill’s house rose higher in the heavens, and strange, ominous sounds were heard in the distance,—sounds as of many horsemen riding for dear life, with shouts and excited voices; and Maude became aware of some sudden influence working upon the crowd around her. Then a band of cavalry dashed into sight, and all was wild hurry and consternation. But, above the din of the strife without, Tom Carleton caught sounds which made his heart leap up, and springing forward past Maude De Vere, he exclaimed: “Thank God, the Federals have come! We are saved! Maude, we are saved!” As his tall form emerged into view, a brutal soldier, maddened by the surprise and unavoidable defeat, leveled his gun and fired, recking little whether Tom or Maude was the victim. The ball cut through the sleeve of Maude’s dress, and grazing her arm enough to draw blood, lodged harmlessly in the rocks beyond. At that sight all Charlie’s fire was roused, and the shot which went whizzing through the air made surer work than did the one intended for Tom Carleton. Tom was out upon the ledge of rocks by this time, grasping the hands of the blue coats, who were a part of a company sent out to reconnoiter, and who had reached Paul Haverill’s house just after the rebels had left it. At first they had tried to extinguish the flames, but finding that impossible, they had followed the enemy, most of whom were made prisoners of war. Some months before, John Simms had been transferred from the Army of the Potomac to the Army of the Cumberland, and he it was who led his men to the rescue, doing it the more daringly and willingly when he heard who was in danger. _He_ was a captain now, and he stood grasping Tom Carleton’s hand, when a piercing shriek rose on the air, and turning round, the young men saw Maude De Vere bending over the prostrate form of a soldier, whose head she gently lifted up, as she moaned bitterly: “Oh, Arthur, Arthur! how came you here?” CHAPTER XXXIV. POOR ARTHUR.