"Alibamo!" shrieked Hayward, "unsay those words or I will give you my dying curse! Would you kill _your_ brother? He loves you as dearly as I love _my_ sister. If I thought, Alibamo, that you would marry that vile wretch, with these chains I would dash your brains out!" "Drag him upon the scaffold!" shouted Branch. "Farewell, Mamie--farewell!" Hayward clasped his sister, but was torn from her, and dragged upon the scaffold, where his chains were removed. "She has fainted--thank God!" said Hayward, as they placed the fatal noose about his neck. "_The Body-guard! The Body-guard!_" "What shouts are those?" yelled Branch. At that moment a horseman dashed up, and cried: "_The Body-guard are upon us!_" "Quick!" yelled Branch. "String him up!" "No, I be d----d if you do, you darn skunks!" cried Nettleton, as he sprang from among the thick branches of the tree, after having severed the rope. "Spring, captain, for your life," cried Nettleton. Hayward sprang from the scaffolding. At that moment there was an explosion just beneath it, which threw the masses in every direction, and caused such a dense smoke, that the soldiers surrounding the scaffold could not distinguish the rescuer, and consequently could not fire. "Alibamo's brother and the Indian were under the scaffold and laid that plot, captain," said Nettleton. "But here comes Adjutant Harry Hinton!" The adjutant dashed forward, and seeing the captain alive, he fairly yelled with delight He embraced his friend, and then remounting, cried: "But come, boys, we have work to do," and off he dashed at a rapid rate. "Come, Nettleton, I must seek my sister," said Hayward, as he started to the point where he had last seen her. He met the brother of Alibamo, and having been informed by Nettleton who he was, Hayward inquired: "Where are our sisters?" "I cannot tell, Captain Hayward. The ground became deserted in a moment after it was known the guard were coming. I suppose Fall-leaf, one of our friends, has removed them to a place of safety, away from the fight They will be found when the fate of the battle is decided." CHAPTER XIII. _Charge of the Body-guard._ Advance your standards, draw your willing swords. For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt The least of you shall share his part thereof. Sound drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully; God and St. George, Richmond and victory.--_Shakespeare._