"If you will permit me, I will ride Major Goddard's mare; that is, if she hasn't been stampeded, or carried off by the guerillas. Symonds, my assistant, who drove the ladies, can surely drive them back." "All right." Gurley nodded curtly. "I see no objection to that plan. Will you assist the ladies in getting their belongings into the wagon? I must see if there are any casualties among our men. Orderly, stay here with Major Goddard, and let me know instantly if he regains consciousness." The troopers were returning from their fruitless pursuit of the guerillas, and they congregated about the lieutenant, who was busy examining the prisoners. "Nine prisoners, Captain," he reported, as Gurley strode up. "Wounded, but not badly enough to prevent their riding. Five guerillas were killed, and three of our men. They are lying yonder," pointing to a clump of trees. "Were any of our men wounded?" "Three have flesh wounds--nothing serious." "Then bury the dead as quickly as you can...." "Is Major Goddard dead?" inquired the lieutenant anxiously, not waiting for his superior to finish his sentence. "No, indeed," cheerily, "simply stunned by the explosion of an old pistol before his face. Sergeant, take some men and carry Major Goddard over to that wagon standing by the roadside." Symonds had removed one of the long cushions belonging to the back wagon seat, and the men carefully lifted Goddard on it, and carried him as gently as possible and placed him in the wagon. "Sit here, Nancy," directed Gurley, "and hold on to Bob; otherwise I am afraid he will fall out." Nancy sprang into the wagon and made Goddard as comfortable as she could. Miss Metoaca, who had been occupied in putting her luggage under the seat, clambered into the vehicle and sat down by Symonds. The mules had been hitched to the wagon by the sergeant and two troopers. "All ready, Miss Metoaca?" asked Gurley, tucking the laprobe around the spinster. "Bugler, sound 'Boots and Saddles.'" As the call ended man after man filed out into the path leading his horse, and the ranks were rapidly formed by Sergeant Crane. A few swift orders, and the troop started on their return trip to Winchester, the wagon, followed by the mounted prisoners, in their midst. CHAPTER XIII FOR THE CAUSE Captain Gurley pushed open the rickety gate impatiently, and strode up the walk to "Page Hall" with jingling spurs and clanking saber. The rambling old house, with shutters askew, bore mute testimony to the fallen fortunes of its owner. The paint was peeling off the tall pillars, and the boards of the gallery shook ominously under Gurley's weight. "Miss Page done say yo' was ter walk inter de pawler, Marse Cap'in," said the old darky, bowing and scraping on the threshold of the open door, "an' Miss Nancy'll be down d'reckly."