"Why, Harry! What on earth are you doing here? Get up behind me, and I will gallop home with you before the firing begins," said John, evidently alarmed for the boy's safety. Placing his foot on that of his brother, Harry clambered up behind. By this time the lines were in range of each other, and a lively fusillade at once began. Harry behaved manfully under fire, and entreated his brother to allow him to stay until the fight was over. But the elder brother was intent on taking him to a place of safety, so putting spurs to his horse he rode swiftly toward the house. His plan was to return the boy to his mother, and then rejoin his comrades. But the Confederates did not know his intentions; and seeing their Captain making his way rapidly to the rear, with this strangely-clad boy behind him, they of course thought him retreating, and they followed pell-mell. Captain John Magill saw the effect of his movement, and, halting, made an effort to rally his men. But the Confederates were thoroughly stampeded, and they dashed madly away. The shouting Federals were now at close range, and the bee-like song of the bullets could be heard on every side. Hastily placing Harry in front of him, to shield him as much as possible from the enemy's fire, he followed his men, now some distance in advance. When they reached the house, Mrs. Magill stood pale and motionless, expecting every moment to see her children fall. Glancing back, Captain John Magill saw that a moment's delay would make him a prisoner; so as he dashed past his mother he cried out, "Don't be uneasy. I'll take care of Harry"; and then he was gone like the wind, his pursuers not a hundred yards behind him. Then a complete change came over Mrs. Magill. Impelled by the great love of a mother, she ran into the yard, and stood calmly in the way of the advancing Federals, whose course lay between the cabins and the house--as if to stop, with her frail form, the impetuous charge. On they came like a hurricane. The mother did not move. Her eyes were closed and her lips compressed. Very near her sounded the hoof-beats. A moment more and she expected to be trampled to death beneath those hurrying feet; but she hoped--yea, and prayed--that her death might somehow delay the Federals until her sons should escape. "Halt! Halt!" The command was in thunder tones, and was echoed and re-echoed along the charging line. The soldiers pulled with all their might on the bits, and many a horse was thrown back on his haunches. Opening her eyes Mrs. Magill saw that the Federal captain, bending over her from his saddle, was her son Thomas.