With that the pair pushed their animals over the rail fence on the left, and at a gallop rode across the field toward a little strip of young chestnut woodland that lay beyond. But just as they reached the centre of the field there came the zip, zip, zip of bullets striking the earth, the whiz of bullets passing their ears, and the weird whistle of bullets passing over them, one of which, now and then, turned somersaults in its course, and produced the peculiar sound that only bullets so misbehaving are capable of producing. At the same moment, the escort under Lieutenant Fauntleroy, who had been in front, fell back to protect its charge, as it was its duty to do. Stuart hurriedly said to the girl: "Ride for your life to the chestnut-trees, and hide yourself there, while I take care of those fellows. I'll come to you when it's over." With that he turned about, placed himself at the head of the little escort squad, and, swinging his sabre, as he always did in action, led them at a furious pace, over a fence and into the thicket from which the fire was coming. The few men who were lurking there were quickly scattered, and abandoning their arms, they ran with all their might to the strong picket-post from which they had been thrown out to intercept him. This done, all danger of further trouble was at an end, or would have been, had Stuart willed it so. But the scent of battle was always in his nostrils. His men were accustomed to say that he was always "looking for trouble," whenever there was the smallest chance of finding it. So instead of contenting himself with having dispersed the assailing party, he wheeled about to the right, and led his squad with the fury of Mameluke against the strong picket-post itself. Amid a hailstorm of bullets he charged through the half-company there posted, and then, turning about, charged back again, completing the work of destruction and dispersal. It was not until this was over, and he had given the command, "Trot," that he saw Agatha by his side, her pistol in hand and empty of its charges, her hair loosened and falling in tangled masses over her shoulders, her face aglow, and her lithe form as erect as that of any trooper among them all. "But my dear Miss Ronald," Stuart ejaculated, "what are you doing here?" "Riding under gallant escort, General, that is all." [Illustration: "'_Riding under gallant escort_'"] "But I ordered you to take refuge in the timber." "Yes, I know," she answered, with a laughing challenge in her eyes, "but as I have never been mustered in, I'm not subject to your orders. You can't court-martial me, can you, General?" Stuart looked at her before answering--his eyes full of an admiration that was dimmed by glad tears. At last he leaned over, kissed her again upon the forehead, and said, impressively: "What a wife you'll make for a soldier some day!" XIII _A SOUVENIR SERVICE_