There was scarcely a chance that she could pick it up unobserved; her ragged skirts covered it; she bent forward as though to tie her shoe, but a sentinel was watching her, so she straightened up carelessly and stood, hands on her hips, dragging one foot idly to and fro, until she had covered the small, round object with sand and gravel. That object was a loaded French hand grenade, fitted with percussion primer; and it lay last at the end of a long row of similar grenades along the shaded side of the house. The sentry in the bushes had been watching her; and now he came out along the edge of the laurel tangle, apparently to warn her away, but seeing a staff officer so near her he halted, satisfied that authority had been responsible for her movements. Besides, he had not noticed that a grenade was missing; neither had the major, who now rose and sauntered toward her, balancing his field glasses in one hand. "There's ammunition under these bushes," he said pleasantly; "don't go any nearer, please. Those grenades _might_ explode if anyone stumbled over them. They're bad things to handle." "Will there be a battle here?" she asked, recoiling from the deadly little bombs. The Major said, stroking the down on his short upper lip: "There will probably be a skirmish. I do not dare let you leave this spot till the first shot is fired. But as soon as you hear it you had better run as fast as you can"--he pointed with his field glasses--"to that little ridge over there, and lie down behind the rocks on the other side. Do you understand?" "Yes--I think so." "And you'll lie there very still until it is--over?" "I understand. May I go immediately and hide there?" "Not yet," he said gently. "Why?" "Because your father is a Union man.... And you are Union, too, are you not?" "Yes," she said, smiling; "are you afraid of me?" A slight flush stained his smooth, sunburnt skin; then he laughed. "A little afraid," he admitted; "I find you dangerous, but not in the way you mean. I--I do not mean to offend you----" But she smiled audaciously at him, looking prettier than ever; and his heart gave a surprised little jump at her unsuspected capabilities. "Why are you afraid of me?" she asked, looking at him with her engaging little smile. In her eyes a bewitching brightness sparkled, partly veiled by the long lashes; and she laughed again, poised there in the sunshine, hands on her hips, delicately provoking his reply. And, crossing the chasm which her coquetry had already bridged, he paid her the quick, reckless, boyish compliment she invited--a little flowery, perhaps, possibly a trifle stilted, but very Southern; and she shrugged like a spoiled court beauty, nose uptilted, and swept him with a glance from half-closed lids, almost insolent.