A TWO BOOK SERIAL

A GREAT WAR STORY OF SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA.

CAVALRY CURT;

—OR,—
THE WIZARD OF THE ARMY.

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BY G. WALDO BROWNE.

VOL.1---NO.11 NEW YORK, JANUARY 9, 1892. PRICE 5 CENTS.
BY G. WALDO BROWNE.

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A RATTLING SEQUEL TO CAVALRY CURT.

UNDER TWO FLAGS;
—OR,—
HIS LIFE FOR HIS HONOR.
BY G. WALDO BROWNE.

VOL.III---NO.16. NEW YORK, JULY 18, 1896. PRICE 5 CENTS.
BY G. WALDO BROWNE.

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CHAPTER I. - A SOLDIER IN DISGRACE.

" It is a painful duty, Captain Morland, but, you, I think, understand my position."

"And I am dishonored?" faltered the other, a noble-looking man of twenty-three or four, who had heartily espoused the Confederate cause and already won distinction under Johnston, who was then entrenched at Dalton, anxiously awaiting the advance of Sherman, then on his memorable march to the sea. "On what ground is the charge made against me?" continued the aggrieved officer.

" Sympathy, even assistance, in the escape a few nights since of Cavalry Curt, Sherman's scout,"

" But I am innocent of that. As heaven is my witness I had no more to do with that than you. It is true he and I were college mates at one time, and when he was captured and condemned to die and I was assigned to the unpleasant task of executing him, I refused to do it. Beyond that I had nothing to do with his escape. I __”

"But your sister, who is in love with the Yank, came here disguised and got him away. Your grandfather died at your home last night with his dying breath uttering treason against the cause of the States. I am sorry for——"

"Never mind," broke in the other, impatiently. "Even if my commission is stripped from me I have one favor to ask "

"And that?"

" Is that I may bear a musket in the detachment to be sent out to-day to beat back Howard's corps now marching upon us. I will show them the color of my loyalty."

" Good for you, cap. I never doubted your loyalty and I will see what can be done for you. But don't be rash my boy. It will all come out right in the end."

General Johnston, as we have said, had concentrated his forces at Dalton while General Sherman was slowly and carefully advancing upon him.

Thomas had succeeded in driving the Confederate cavalry from the outposts of
Tunnel Hill and made a bold dash for the summits.

But the Confederate troops had been well prepared to receive him, so a short though sharp engagement had followed.

Really, however, the western commander had had little expectations of carrying the place and his move had been made as a cover for the purpose of allowing McPherson to gain Resaca.

But through one of his scouts, the well-known Boyd Wyman, Johnston had been apprized of his enemy's real designs. So he dispatched a division of his troops to head off Schofield at Wing Ridge, the objective point of Harmon's relief corps.

As a common soldier the disgraced Captain Morland went with these troops which were expected to see some sharp fighting.

About two o'clock in the afternoon the first gun was fired and the battle soon waxed hot.

Newton, who was in command of the northern troops, suddenly finding his way thus obstructed quickly prepared for an assault.

A bold rush was then made upon the enemy, but they manfully held their own, and Newton was compelled to draw off his forces.

A reconnoitering party was then sent to " feel out" the enemy's weakest place.

Meanwhile preparations were made for another charge.

At half-past three Newton again assaulted the enemy's breastworks to be again repulsed.

Smoke-begrimed and suffering from three slight wounds the commander looked grimly upon his troops.

"Are we to be driven back by a handful of grays like that?" he exclaimed. "At them again, boys! We will show them this time that we are of better mettle."

For the third time the gallant troops dashed up the hill.

The enemy poured down a galling fire, which thinned the front ranks to a decimal.

Others were ready to take the place of the fallen, however, and with an unbroken front the hardy troops pressed resolutely forward.

"Now! double-quick—charge"

Breaking into a smart run the boys in blue soon reached the breastworks.

Then it was hand to hand.

Man grappled with man and for a time it seemed a drawn game.

There were only a handful of the Con federates, but they fought like tigers.

But the odds soon began to tell.

At this critical moment the Confederate flag went down, bathed in blood.

" We are lost!" exclaimed its commander.

Hark! what cry is that?

It is a shout that bears the ring of victory.

Firing has been opened on the Federal flank.

Harmon's detachment is sweeping on to the rescue of their beleaguered friends.

Major Varney gained courage. Rallying his shattered forces they strove more madly than ever to beat back the persistent foe.

As if to counter-balance the weight of Harmon's troops thrown so suddenly upon him, Maxwell's division in the reserve came to the rescue of Newton.

The skirmish was growing to a goodly-sized battle.

In the front ranks of Harmon's corps was Harry Morland.

He fought like a madman, those say who saw him.

Apparently deaf to the cries of humanity he stood where others fell as if bearing a charmed life.

Just as he was urging his men on to a final charge Harmon fell.

This disaster was a fatal blow to the Confederates.

Cut off by Maxwell's division from those at the front the troops broke in disorder.

Broke when victory seemed in their grasp.

The colors which had been raised a second time again fell.

" Once more, boys, charge!" thundered Newton, seeing their advantage.

Harry Morland, his gun shivered and useless, the blood streaming down his face from a saber wound, saw the flag he was fighting for go down.

He saw his troops breaking away in wild confusion.

He heard the triumphant cries of his foes.

Realized that the tide of the battle had turned against them; he reeled backward with a groan.

Then his eyes flashing, his countenance streaming a look of mad defiance, he sprang forward into the very front of the foe, crying: " All who are not cowards follow me! Forward, boys, charge!"

The ringing words sounded clear above the din of the strife.

The sight of his daring attack nerved the panic-stricken to renewed work.

The column wheeled.

The air filled with their cries they dashed up the hill upon the heels of their reckless leader.

Harry reached the breastworks.

Clearing a path before him he reached the tattered flag to snatch it from the earth.

Swinging it above his head he shouted: "They called me a traitor yesterday! What do you think of this?"

The next moment the Federals poured into their midst a raking fire.

One of the bullets struck Harry Morland, and with the flag still in his hands he sank to the earth lifeless!

The hero had done his work.

The desperate rally, however, reaped its harvest.

The northern lines were forced back and Newton's troops left the field in confusion.

Wing Ridge, through the bravery of one man, was saved to the Confederacy.

Howard nor Schofield got no nearer to Dalton.

It was a dear bought victory, for the loss was heavy on both sides considering the time and number engaged.

One, however, among the slain had washed out the stains of wrong upon his record.

When the list of the dead was reported not private but Captain Harry Morland's name was there.

" He told me," said an old soldier, as he stood over the lifeless form, "that he was coining up here to die!"

Truly he had kept his word.

CHAPTER II. - HAND TO HAND .

Meanwhile the scout, Cavalry Curt, whom Captain Morland had been accused of assisting in escaping from the Confederates arrived at McPherson's camp to give him the important tidings that Johnston had learned of Sherman's real designs and was acting accordingly.

So McPherson found himself unable to carry out the plan of his superior with any assurance of success.

True he might march upon Resaca, but warned as he had been of his enemy's intentions he had so re-enforced that place that its capture by him was exceedingly doubtful.

Worse even than that he began to realize that unable to get upon the railroad either above or below Resaca, thus to turn the Confederates' flank, his own was in danger!

Should Johnston conclude to abandon, as he must sooner or later, his position at Dalton, to appear upon the roads he had cut to the south, McPherson's brigade would be in most imminent peril.

Too acute to be caught in such a trap that officer decided at once to fall back to Snake Creek and entrenching himself there await Sherman’s orders.

Without realizing fully the great danger hovering over the home of his sweetheart, Mara Morland, Cavalry Curt decided to remain with McPherson, confidently expecting to see some striking scenes.

Finding it of no avail to continue the attack on Rocky Face Ridge any longer, on the 10th Sherman ordered his whole army to join McPherson, excepting Howard's corps and a small body which were to be in readiness to march upon Dalton in case Johnston should vacate the place as the Northern commander anticipated.

The following day, as Sherman had foreseen, witnessed the departure of the Confederates from their mountain fortress, Resaca becoming their objective point. Here, with Polk on his left, Har-dee in the center and Hood on his right, he grimly awaited Sherman's coming.

Nor had he long to wait for on the 13th Sherman's army was in the field ready for work.

McPherson had already encountered Loring's division, and after some sharp fighting driven that corp to Johnston's extreme left on the Oostanaula.

This river from Resaca runs southwesterly to Rome, where a branch of the main railroad connects that place with Kingston on the direct line from Atlanta to Adairsville, Calhoun, Resaca, where Johnston had now fortified himself.

Anticipating the Confederates intention of holding Resaca Sherman designed to break the railroad between Calhoun and Kingston—perhaps well down toward the latter place.

This he purposed to do with light and rapidly-moving columns while the main portion of his forces engaged the foe in front.

This difficult undertaking was assigned to Girard's division of cavalry.

Curtis Remington, " Cavalry Curt," to his satisfaction, was given command of a body of cavalry belonging to McPherson's brigade and to which he had formerly been connected.

Sherman on the 14th attacked Johnston at all parts of his entrenchment, Schofield in charge of the right flank, Thomas in the center and the gallant McPherson's division, with whom our interest more particularly belong, to the right.

Boldly pushing across Camp Creek "brave Mac" hurled his infantry against Polk, entrenched upon a height commanding the river.

Leading this van on the right was Remington's cavalry, and of all those war-scared troops none fought more nobly than they.

Twice was their chief unhorsed, and each time he reappeared smoke-be-grimed but undaunted.

Toward night while the Confederate commander was reeling from the sledgehammer blows dealt at his breastworks by McPherson's center, the cavalry was went to cut off the enemy's retreat to the river.

Sweeping down a line of growth reaching westward they met the foe at the foot of the hill.

"Forward—charge!" thundered Cavalry Curt—Captain Remington—waving his sword in the air.

'Mid the fierce cannonade above they plunged into battle, the two fronts meeting with a shock that sent them reeling back!

Captain Remington's' horse was shot under him—the third that day—and for a moment it seemed that the tide of battle had overwhelmed his sturdy troops.

Foremost at this instant appeared in the Confederate van a tall, gigantic figure, bleeding from wounds, yet conscious of the advantage awaiting a swift pass at the lire.

" Into line, boys!" he cried as his keen vision swept the scene. Then as he flung back his tawny locks he shouted in a stentorian tone: "On, boys! the victory is ours?"

Cavalry Curt, as he sprang to his feet heard the words and recognized the voice.

Nor was he long inactive.

Once more in the saddle he led his followers into the jaws of battle.

In the midst of the fray, where the strife waxed the hottest, the leaders met —hand to hand—Cavalry Curt and Brick Logan.

CHAPTER III. - THE MYSTERIOUS RIDER.

Not a word was spoken by either as their swords clashed in a combat that meant more than ordinary battle to them.

Dexterously parrying his antagonist's onset, Curt cut an ugly gash on the forearm from which the blood spouted in a stream.

Aroused by the stinging blow Logan wheeled his horse, to dash again at the other more careful this time but with greater fury.

The wound smarted keenly and already he felt his arm failing him.

Cavalry Curt had turned and was calmly awaiting his attack.

Then, as the Confederate lunged at his breast, he threw the blade up and catching its haft upon the point of his own sword with a powerful wrench he tore the weapon from Logan's grasp.

" Will you surrender?1' he cried as the blade went whizzing through the air, and he pressed hard down upon the disarmed foe.

"I yield!" answered Logan.

By this time the cavalry had driven back the enemy and the day was theirs.

At that very moment the stars and stripes were flung to the breeze from the crest of the hill telling of McPherson's triumph.

The firing quickly ceased and the quiet that succeeds battle brought its relief.

By this victory the northern troops commanded tbe Confederate bridges across the Oostanaula.

Thomas and Schofield had been less fortunate, but on the whole Sherman had gained a foothold.

The following day Johnston retreated down the river to Cassville near to Kingston, while Sherman moved rapidly after him.

The loss of the Union forces had thus far exceeded that of the Confederates.

Cavalry Curt did riot see Brick Logan (I suppose we ought to give them their titles of rank, but somehow I like their names better) after his capture. In fact he hardly thought of him in the confusion and excitement that followed.

McPherson was foremost to move upon the Confederate's heels and he was led by Remington's cavalry.

So promptly did McPherson act that at Calhoun he had a sharp brush with the foe opened by the cavalry.

This was on the 16th and that night Cavalry Curt with his company was bivouacked on a slight eminence overlooking the road leading from Calhoun to Adairsville.

After three days in the saddle the troops were only too glad to find rest even upon the ground.

An abundance of grass grew in the valley below, which afforded excellent pasturage for their animals.

As soon as they had eaten to their fill they were secured tit a convenient place and the men laid down in their blankets to sleep.

There was one exception to this—Captain Remington finding it impossible to sleep.

After tossing to and fro an hour or more he had decided to take a stroll around the camp to see if it would not have a quieting effect upon his nerves, when he fancied he heard the sounds of the hoof strokes of a horse.

Listening a moment they grew plainer when he became certain of the approach of a horseman.

Without waiting further he rose from his blanket and telling the sentry what to do in case he should give the alarm he started toward the highway eight or ten rods below.

The rider, though continuing to advance came at such a slow pace that Cavalry Curt had several minutes to wait after reaching the road before the other came in sight.

Though the sky was somewhat overcast, the moon nearing its full was several hours high, so that objects were quite plainly seen.

He could see long ere he came within speaking distance that the rider sat unsteadily in his seat.

In fact he threatened to fall from the saddle at every step of the horse.

His head had fallen forward upon his breast, while his hands which hung by his side made no attempt to hold the reins.

Cavalry Curt watched him with wonder.

Nearer and nearer he came without looking up and apparently entirely heedless of his passage.

His face as far as could be seen in the semi-darkness was deathly white.

When he had come within a couple of rods Curt stepping boldly forth from his concealment called out in a clear, distinct tone:

" Halt! who comes there?"

The horse flung up his head as if startled by the sudden challenge.

Its rider never changed his position! The hands hung as listlessly by his side; his head still rested on his breast.

"Stand!" cried Curt, raising his revolver, "another step at the peril of your life!"

This time the horse stopped, throwing up his head again; and as if in answer to the challenge gave a shrill neigh.

Its abrupt movement nearly unseated the mysterious rider, who swayed back and forth as if he would topple from his position.

He took no notice of him disputing his progress. The horse had stopped through fear and not at his will.

Cavalry Curt was puzzled.

"Speak, man! whether friend or foe."

The other did not speak—did not even look up.

Determined to effect his capture Curt started forward to seize the horse's bridle.

As he did so he got a plainer view of the man's face, when his arm dropped by his side and he staggered back as if shot.

The horse, frightened perhaps by his attack leaped smartly forward nearly hurling its rider from its back.

At the second bound, however, he fell forward upon the creature's neck, and with his arms falling down one on either side he rode away.

Cavalry Curt was usually quick to act, but before he could recover from the shock he had received the horse and rider were disappearing from sight in the distance.

He gazed after them in a dazed sort of way exclaiming aloud at last: "Merciful heaven! was that Harry Morland or his apparition?"

CHAPTER IV. - THE FUGITIVES.

" Yes; it is a body of horsemen. I can see them plainly now."

"Do you think they are enemies?"

" More than likely; but keep up good courage for we will find some way to outwit them."

The scene was on one of the Georgia roads running toward Atlanta; and the speakers were two fugitives seeking a place of safety in a country overrun with the hosts of war.

In fact the second speaker was Mara Morland, the sister of Captain Morland, arid she had been driven from the home she had been placed in by Cavalry Curt, barely escaping with her life.

Her companion was to all appearances an old and defenseless man, but who was in reality a man a little past the prime of life and one of the boldest and most successful scouts of Sherman's army. He was sometimes called Old Fatality, but more often the Wizard Scout. Though his meeting with Mara had been quite accidental it had been very fortunate for her for she must have fallen a prey to the skirmishing parties infesting the country. If she could only reach a friend's home not far from Atlanta she hoped she might be safe.

The couple were mounted upon good horses which the scout had captured that day.

Along with the horses he had also captured one of a squad of cavalry, and this man was Landaff, the same one he had captured once before, and who had made his escape from the Federals by some means. He was securely bound and they were taking him along with them.

As may be imagined he watched the approach of the horsemen with joy.

Feeling sure the oncoming riders were foes the Wizard Scout decided upon a bold course of action.

"Look here, Johnny," he said to the prisoner, " I am going to free you and it must appear that you are escorting us by order out of this vicinity, Answer all questions to that effect. Remember my hand is on a cocked revolver if at the least show of treachery I'll put a bullet through your brain. We worked this racket on you once before and you proved very tractable. Do you accept the terms?"

" Yes," was the sullen reply.

" Good," said his captor as he prepared to carry his plan into effect. "See that you do as I tell you."

Then they awaited the Confederate cavalry. They numbered an even dozen.

At sight of our party they looked surprised, and as soon as they came within speaking distance they reined up.

" Ho! who are you—what, Landaff, as I live! Whew! how comes this?"

The cavalry chief's amazement was no greater than the others, though the latter under his circumstances dared not betray his real feelings.

He felt uncomfortable under the glittering gaze of the mysterious scout. How he longed to tell Captain Ashton the true condition of affairs! A single sidelong glance toward him who rode along side was warning enough for him to desist. The scout's right hand was under his coat. He knew well enough why!

" What, say, Land, have you lost your tongue? Whither are you going in company with that precious pair?"

" To Wytheton. Hanged queer I must be sent off on this blamed trip. As if their safety was of more account than others."

" So you don't like your job old boy?" cried the genial, unsuspecting officer. "Oh, well, you'll get there soon after sunrise. Anything new from Resaca?"

"No, s'pose you have heard how we licked Newton at Wing Ridge?"

"No. The truth is we have been off three days—just getting back. Tell us about it."

"Oh, we just gave toe Yanks fits. Lots of the boys went down though. We should have lost the day if it hadn't been for Captain Morland. They say he fought like a tiger. The boys were driven back twice and were fleeing in wild confusion when he picked up the colors and calling upon them to follow him rushed upon the breastworks. The sight of him fired the others and wheeling they followed him back, driving the Yanks from the works. Poor Harry! it cost him dear for he fell with more than a dozen bullets in his body."

The speaker evidently forgetting his situation spoke with great earnestness.

At the mention of her brother's name Mara could not suppress a low cry of anguish, for this was the first intelligence she had received of his fate.

" Don't mind 'em war-stories, darter," said the scout quickly.

" Well, I'm sorry for Harry," said Captain Ashton. " He was a capital fellow. Such is the fortune of war. But I suppose you are anxious to get on and I am cure we are, so a quick journey to you, Landaff, and may we meet again."

Not daring to do differently the Confederate started forward with his companions, the cavalrymen reining out one side of the road so they could pass.

The Wizard Scout felt confident that the horsemen were watching them after they had passed, though lie dared not release his watch over Landaff long enough to glance back. He was glad to escape so easily.

" You acted your part well," he said to his victim and nothing further was said until three or four miles had been passed over.

Mara, her mind convulsed with anguish, longed to inquire more definitely of Harry's fate, but could do no better than to wait.

Suddenly, as they were passing over a wide stretch of level country, the Wizard Scout motioned a halt.
Then as the others paused beside him he said calmly:

" We are pursued!"

CHAPTER V. - HUNTED DOWN.

The acute hearing of the Wizard Scout had warned him of what the others had failed to detect—the hoof strokes of a body of horsemen following rapidly after them.

As they listened a moment, however, the sounds grew plain until both Mara and Landaff felt confident, that their companion was right.

The Confederate's countenance brightened as he once more realized that succor for him was near at hand.
Mara turned pale and trembled like an aspen leaf.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, " will this terrible journey never end?"

"Don't lose courage," admonished the scout.

Then turning to the rebel he continued: "Reckon I had better put the strings on your wrists again, mister. Don't you lift——"

But Landaff had resolved on a bold strike for freedom. The realization that he had friends near nerved him to action.

Before the scout could finish his speech he dealt his horse a smart blow and—a grip like iron fell upon his shoulder and the horse was hurled backward upon its haunches with a force that would have dismounted him had it not been for the hand laid so violently upon him.

" Ha! ha!" laughed the Wizard Scout, "so you thought you could get away. I'd let you go only I have an idea I shall need you by and by. I wouldn't try that maneuver again if I were you."

Landaff gave up without further resistance, and while he was speaking Old Fatality secured his hands behind him.

By this time the clatter of the oncoming horsemen was clearly heard.

"Come, Mollie," he cried to Mara, " we mustn't lose any more time. It's a ride for life now!"

He no longer attempted any caution in his movements.

Keeping Landaff beside him he dashed ahead at a wild pace his long gray locks streaming in the night air.

Mara, in a dazed, bewildered way, followed close behind him.

In mad pursuit came the Confederate cavalry.

Leaving the plain they entered a narrow valley where for miles the road was walled in by the craggy mountains.

Deep shadows fell across their path and owing to the darkness their flight was less rapid, though they still rushed on as swiftly as possible.

At last the frowning heights were passed and once more they came into open country, where the starlight was more brilliant and their progress surer and swifter.

Occasionally a farm-house was seen, though no signs of life were apparent.

The sounds of their pursuers were still growing plainer and it was evident that they must soon be overtaken.
The long-continued exertions on the part of their horses was telling with direful effect.

Still they could only press on and on in the vain hope that some avenue of escape would be opened to them.

All the time louder and louder grew the clatter of the enemies' approach, as nearer and nearer they rushed in pursuit.

Mara felt that they were lost, and even the usually indifferent look upon the bronzed countenance of the Wizard Scout deepened to one of anxiety.

Landaff grew hopeful, to glance ever and anon toward his friends so rapidly overtaking them.

Finally the horse ridden by the scout began to fail so that to continue the flight longer was useless.

"It's no use!" he declared, "we've got to stop sooner or later and the quicker the better I think. I know of a Union man who lives somewhere in this vicinity, and if we can find him we are sure of help. It can't be more than half a mile from here to his place. Ha! the rebs are gaining on us fast. Another half mile, old horse, and you shall have rest. Luckily for you no one will ask whether you are a gray or a blue."

Despite the. lagging strength of the horses the half mile was soon passed over when they came in sight of a farm-house standing a short distance from the road.

"It's the place!" cried the scout and at that moment their pursuers came into sight.

To their disappointment the house was deserted. Fearful of the dangers threatening them the occupants had hastily departed to some other place.

"We cannot go any further," declared the scout. " We must stop here."

"Dismount!" he ordered Landaff.

The enemy cries now rang on the air.

"Quick! we must find an entrance into the house!" exclaimed Old Fatality, "We can better defend ourselves within."

" Let me go!" implored the Confederate, " I will not lift a hand——"

" Not a word!" hissed the scout. " You escape or die with us! Come along."

To his satisfaction he had little difficulty in opening the door when they entered the lonely dwelling.

At that moment their pursuers dashed into the yard.

" None too soon!" declared the scout as he blockaded the door as best he could.

" Let me surrender and save you——" began Mara.

"Tut, tut!"answered her preserver, "I promised Cavalry Curt that no harm should befall you while I could lift an arm in your defense. I am not going to eat my words. Here, I know you are brave enough to handle a weapon. Take it and if Mister Gray offers a move shoot him as you would a snake. I'll look after the others."

By this time the soldiers had surrounded the house and the captain with four others started toward the door.

" Hold!" thundered the scout, covering the first with his firearm. "Advance another step at the peril of your life!"

CHAPTER VI. - YES OR NO ?

The Wizard Scout was standing at one of the windows, his stalwart form plainly seen by the Confederate officer.

There was no mistaking the tone of his ringing words. Captain Ashton stopped abruptly in his course.

"Look here!" he cried, "what do you mean by this?"

" Only protection to the girl with me and safety to myself."

" But after meeting you to-night we were fortunate enough to learn your true character. You are a northern spy!"

" Sho! have you got the documents to prove it?"

"And the girl with you is a traitoress! Now surrender quietly and you shall be treated as prisoners of war."

"What if we refuse?"

"We will tear this building down over your heads but we will have you. And capture under those circumstances means death!"

"As if you would let us off scot free if we surrendered. No, sir; I know enough of war to realize that we can do no better than to fight you to the bitter end."

"What has become of the man with you?"

" He is still here; and mind you, he die:! or lives with us!''

The officer winced.

" Can I speak to him?"

"At my dictation; yes."

"I would do so."

" Stand where you are then till I can fetch him up."

He motioned for his prisoner to come forward. Of course the other's hands were still fastened and he was powerless to do any effectual harm.

"Answer the chap as I shall tell you,'' ordered the grim captor.

"Here's the man!" he called out to Captain Ashton. " Have over with your talk, lively."

" Landaff, what can we do for you?" asked the officer.

"Tell him nothing unless he leaves us in peace," advised the scout.

The prisoner obeyed, as he could do no better.

"Bah! that isn't the kind of answer I want. What do you want us to do ? Can he answer that as well, Sir Yank?"

" He can, only to remember our captivity means his death."

" Your answer, Landaff?"

" Though it cost me my life, take them!" the captive replied, defiantly.

"Good for you," said the captain. " We won't be long in doing it."

Old Fatality smiled grimly.

" Anything more to say?"

" Only for our friend to keep up courage, and to give you a last chance to surrender peacefully,"

" Which I will never do. I am good for the lives of half of you before you can end my work. I warn you that another move toward this house signs your doom. Here, Mollie, take charge of this chap and don't——no; you just keep your weapon on that officer and in a trice I'll bind the gray coat. It 'll save us trouble."

As we have already said the Confederates had surrounded the house, but knowing the unflinching character of the man with whom he was dealing, Captain Ashton resolved to act cautiously. He valued his own life too highly to take any great risk.

Finding that the Wizard Scout was deadly in earnest he withdrew a short distance to consult with some of his followers as to the best course to pursue.

It was quickly decided upon.

While he with others were to feign an attack in front, those to the rear of the house were to effect an entrance and steal upon the hunted man before he should discover their intentions.

They bad mistaken their victim.

Old Fatality anticipated their intentions.

" Hold up where you are!'' ho cried out springing forward from the prisoner in season to challenge Captain Ashton's second advance. "I hold your life under my finger!"

The Confederate chief instantly paused.

" Now, Mollie, I must call upon you. I read the grays' plans like an open book. If that chap moves shoot him. I want to see what they are doing behind us. Don't be afraid to fire if one of them stirs. Remember your life is at stake."

With remarkable fortitude Mara took the position assigned her, while he hurried to the other side of the building.

He was in season to see three or four dark forms creeping toward the house and already within a short distance of it.

Without hesitation he aimed at the foremost arid fired.

A wild yell followed, arid the man sprang up to run for his life.

A second shot, another victim, a third ringing report and a general rush of the besiegers with yells and howls of pain.

'Reckon they'll find I'm not napping!" chuckled the strange scout, as he returned to Mara who at the sound of the firing had grown extremely nervous.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, anxiously.

" Not I," he laughed. "It's the grays that got into the fire! Hold your post a few minutes longer. I think I see a way to outwit the howling mob. Mr. Landaff, I have a proposition to make to you. Either compromise with your precious fellow rebels so that we can go away in peace or I'll use you as a means for our escape. Come, your answer; quick! I have no time to lose.”

"Faugh! I won't be in your power long. I——"

"Answer my question at once. Your life is at stake as well as mine."

" But I have friends who——"

"Stop! will you compromise with me or not—yes or no?"

"No! I——"

"Take your choice, and the consequence be upon your own head."

While speaking the scout seized him in his strong arms and started with him up the stairs.

" Look sharp to them outside," he said to Mara. "I won't be gone long."

Landaff struggled violently to break from his bonds, but he writhed in vain. Alike powerless was he to prevent the undertaking of his captor who bore him up the stairs in his giant arms as if he had been a child.

Reaching the second floor the scout dragged him to the nearest window, and ninging up the sash peered out into the flight.

A couple of soldiers could be seen crouching in the hedge a short distance from the house.

"Fools; now for a piece of rope," he exclaimed.

He was gone but a moment when he returned with a coil of stout cord, which he quickly fastened around the man's body.

At that moment renewed cries from the mob surrounding the building were borne to his ears.

CHAPTER VII. - ESCAPE.

Excited to unusual strength the Wizard Scout lifted the Confederate from the floor to the window sill.
A cry of horror escaped the other's lips as he realized the fate in store for him.

"Oh, spare me! spare me!" he implored. " I will do anything, only spare my life."

"Too late!" replied Old Fatality, tersely. " You refused my offer and now you must take the consequence.

It's two lives against yours."

In spite of his futile struggles he was swung out into the open space and his cries ringing on the night air he was lowered down the wall a few feet when he was suspended in mid-air.

Madly striving for freedom he broke the cord that bound his feet which allowed him the liberty of his lower limbs only to add to the startling reality of his position.

"Murder! help! save me!" he gasped, the confusion of his cries drowning all articulate sounds.

"Here he comes! here becomes—out of the window!'' cried one of the soldiers, others quickly echoing the cry, when a rush was made in that direction.

" Take him alive if possible," ordered Captain Ashton, appearing upon the scene. "Ha! ha! we have caught the bird in his own snare!"

By this time the scout had reached the lower room where he was anxiously met by Mara.

" They have all gone away from——"

"Come with me!" he interrupted. "Now is our time, or never!"

Leading the way to the rear of the house he found that the coast was clear in that direction, the Confederates having all rushed to the end of the building.

"Keep close to me," he whispered, as they darted noiselessly away, even gaining the cover of the growth that reached on that side nearly to the house.

The cries were still heard at the further end, telling that the enemy had not yet discovered their mistake.

The scout knew, however, that they would soon understand the deception which had been played upon them when they would begin a wild search for them.

Unfortunately for the fugitives the growth reached but a short distance when they were forced to cross a clearing of several rods' width in plain view from the house.

" We have no time to lose," said the scout. "If we can only reach yonder shrubbery without being seen we shall elude them.

Just then a wilder shout than ever was heard from their foes telling that the scout's ruse had been discovered.

" Quick, or we shall be too late!"

Before they could cross the clearing, however, the Confederates appeared in sight.

"There they go!" cried one. "Come on, boys; they can't escape this time."

It certainly looked so.

The fugitives soon gained the dense growth of weeds and small bushes that grew beyond the growth they had previously left.

After going a hundred rods or so the scout stopped in the midst of a tangled thicket.

The soldiers were close upon them and it was evident would soon overtake them.

" It's no use to try to outrun them," said the scout. "Perhaps they will not find us here."

Coming on at a headlong pace the Confederates began a wild search for the hiding ones, coming nearer and nearer to their retreat.

Mara's heart seemed to stop its beating as she felt that they were lost. Instinctively she clung to her faithful protector who was so nobly periling his own life in her behalf.

The heavy tramp of the soldiers' feet grew louder until peering out from their cover the fugitives caught sight of the foremost.

Discovery was inevitable when a voice from the distance called out: "Quick—this way! Here they are!

Help—hel—p!"

"They've gone to the right!" cried Captain Ashton. "Come on!"

Another call was borne to their ears from the road going further and further away.

To a man the soldiers rushed that way in hot pursuit.

"Our way is clear now," said the Wizard Scout. " Let's improve our time."

Bewildered by the excitement of the excitement of the wild flight, Mara allowed her companion to lead her away as rapidly as they could make their progress possible.

The cries of the enemy grew fainted and fainter as they followed on their false scent.

Careful to avoid the highways, when they had kept on for half an hour, the scout stopped, saying:
"Pardon me, Miss Morland, but I forgot that you are not so used to tramping the country as I am. You must be tired."

"Not so tired, as frightened. Do you think we are safe now?"

" Not safe, perhaps, but I am quite sure we have escaped one portion of our enemy."

"And you are risking all this for me! How helpless I am. Can we reach Woodsville, do you think?''

" With little doubt. I consider the most dangerous part of our journey passed. If we could only pick up a couple of horses now we would be all right. I know of no better course for us than to cross the country until we reach the Atlanta road. We shall then have little to fear from the cavalry, and if your strength holds out can walk to Woodsville, if we are not fortunate enough to find some sort of a team."

" Oh, I know I can walk that distance. I do not care for that, but I am so anxious for Harry. Do you think he has been killed?"

" We can only hope for the best. Keep up good courage and remember you are not alone in distress." " You are very kind. But I do not understand how you threw those men off of our course. You seemed to be invested with wonderful powers.

"I have one," he admitted, "which has served me a purpose many a time. I am a ventriloquist."

She looked surprised.

"It is not strange they call you the Wizard of the Army."

He smiled.

" Well, never mind. If you are rested somewhat we will resume our journey.”

Though their course was a continuous gantlet of perils they escaped further adventure until reaching Woodsville, which was not until the folio wing evening as no team could be found.

At an old Negro's home they were fortunate to get some food, and here they rested a few hours.

Mara as might be expected was nearly exhausted when at last they came in sight of the little village which was their destination.

She had been there once with her grandfather, though she hardly recognized the place now it was so quiet and deserted.

More than half of the houses were empty and even those yet occupied showed little signs of life.

As it was afterward learned there was not an able-bodied man in the village, all being in the army, while many of their families had gone away.

Mara led the way to the house of her relatives, to find that like the majority— deserted! Not one was left of those whom she had expected to meet.

In answer to her anxious inquiries a woman told her:

" Oh, yes; I 'member—the Langdon's, they proved poor Yank trash and they had to get out of the place.
Couldn't stay here. I s'pect they war killed. I knows they oughter been. So ye's their relation? 'For the lawd! then ye's northern, too!"

The words bore an ominous ring and as she spoke the woman turned sharply away.

Poor Mara! unable to bear more fell in a swoon.

CHAPTER VIII. - STIRRING SCENES.

Cavalry Curt was not long in recovering from his surprise at the appearance of the strange horseman.

The latter, however, had disappeared from view, and the sound of his horse's hoof strokes was growing rapidly fainter.

Pursuit would be in vain, he thought even if he cared to risk it. Then, too, more than likely he was mistaken in the other's identity, for it had been a long time since he had seen Harry Morland.

All this conjecture, however, did not solve the mystery of the other's peculiar situation, and it was little wonder if his mind was more unsettled than when he had left camp.

Before he had found it impossible to put from his mind's eye the image of Mara Morland; now coupled with it was that of her brother, pale and ghastly as the dead.

More anxiously than ever he looked forward to the time when he should meet the Wizard Scout and know the result of his assistance in her behalf.

Johnston retreated rapidly down the railroad to Cassville, and thence across the valley of the Etowah to the hills of Dallas, followed by the Union troops.

Here at New Hope Church just east of Dallas he entrenched himself for the third time, having stationed Hood on his right, Hardee on his left and Polk in front.

Sherman with the main portion of his army had hoped to cut off this retreat by a wide detour. But this astute foe saw through his designs and successfully reached the coveted goal.

However, the indefatigable Union commander began hostiles at once determined to get as near to his enemy as possible.

For three days the fight raged all along the line.

Geary's division assaulted Stewart's, of Hood's corps, at the Church, desisting only when compelled to leave the field on account of the stormy night.

McPherson was on Sherman's extreme right in an exposed position.

The keen eye of Johnston discovered him and seeing the great advantage of effecting his dislodgement he ordered Polk to attack him.

Cavalry Curt's cavalry still belonged to brave Mac's corp., occupying a skirmishing line in the woods to the south.

The firing was opened about ten o'clock when the enemy made a spirited dash upon McPherson's left.

Repulsed after a sharp engagement the Confederates withdrew.

Reinforcements coming to their assistance they stormed, in the afternoon, the southern breastwork.

The fight raged here hotter than at the previous assault, the Confederates centering all of their energies for this, their final effort.

It was a cloudy, dismal day and as the troops moved swiftly up the wooded bottom their appearance seemed more than usually fateful under the vanguard of the threatening storm.

" How are our men—ready?" asked the bronzed and bearded chief.

" Ready," was the subordinate's terse reply.

" And our extreme right?"

" Is supported by Remington's cavalry, as eager for the fray as ever. If that man don't come out of the army with more than a captain's commission then he'll never come out at all."

"He is a brave, dashing fellow who deserves all the honor he will get. Hark! I hear the bugle call to arms. The grays have opened the attack. I wish our reinforcements would come."

The battle had begun in earnest and as is usually the case if you want to see the brunt of the fight join the cavalry.

As ever, Cavalry Curt's troops bore themselves gallantly, and to them belonged much of the credit of repulsing the foe, for the Confederates were flung back with a heavy loss.

For three days there was constant fighting all along the line, and though the Federal loss was heavier than that of their enemy they were slowly but surely beating them back.

Weary from the incessant fighting Cavalry Curt had rolled himself in his blanket for a few hours' rest, and it might be sleep, on the night following the attack upon McPherson's division, when he felt a hand laid upon his shoulder.

Starting up with surprise he saw standing over him the tall, gaunt form of the Wizard Scout.
A glad cry escaped his lips as he grasped the other's hand.

" I need not tell you how glad I am to meet you," he said. " What news?" ' Both good and bad."

“ What of her—Mara Morland?" ' She is well."

“ And safe?"

“No; none are safe in these parts."

'You misunderstand me. She escaped from Dalton?"

"Yes."

In a few words the scout acquainted him with an account of what had transpired since their parting.

" May heaven bless you for your noble conduct," exclaimed Curt, fervently. " So she is at Woodsville now. How long will she be safe there?"

" A few days—possibly a week. Johnston is going to fortify himself at Kennesaw in front of Marietta——"

" You do not mean it!" exclaimed Curt, in surprise. " He——"

"You will see that I am a time prophet," broke in the strange man. " The two armies are going to move in
nearly a parallel direction, and Johnston is going to entrench at Marietta—Slier-man further up oil the railroad.''

"And Woodsville is nearly opposite Marietta," said Curt, still thinking of her who was uppermost in his mind.

"Correct, old man."

"What will become of her then when we march upon the rebel forces as we must. Woodsville will be hardly removed from the battle ground. Oh, I shudder to think of her fate, and I am here, helpless to save her."

"But you forget that I am my own man. I promised to return to her at my first opportunity. I thought you would be anxious to see me, so I returned as soon as possible."

" For which you have my heartfelt thanks."

" Oh, I had other business," returned the scout, carelessly. " The rebs have a plan afoot to burn a railroad bridge above here and capture the train of supplies which Sherman is expecting."

" Do you mean it?" cried Curt. " Then troops will have to be sent to its defense."

" J thought so, but there is plenty of time as the attack is riot planed to be made until to-morrow night. By the way, I have something to tell you that may not be pleasant. Harry Morland was shot at the fight at Wing Ridge!"

"Harry Morland shot," gasped his companion. " Was he killed?"

"Yes, instantly. He was leading the Confederate troops in a desperate charge to fall pierced by a dozeti bullets."

"Poor fellow! he was as brave as a lion. So another bright, young life has been sacrificed in this war of brother against brother. Does she know of this?''

" Yes; and she bore it better than I expected she would."

" Are you sure he was killed?" asked Curt, abruptly, as he suddenly remembered the horseman he had mistaken for his friend.

"As sure as we are of any report during these uncertain time. In fact I have no doubt of its truth. Why?"
Curt quickly told him of his strange meeting with the unknown rider.

The Wizard Scout shook his head.

"It could not have been Harry Morland."

"I see now that it could not have been, and even then I was not certain, as it has been so long since I have seen him. Must you go?"

"Yes; you need rest and I must find the commander."

" You never seem to rest."

" Not with unfinished work on my hands. Hal I came near forgetting a part of my errand. Here is a paper she sent you," banding the cavalry chief a missive as he spoke.

Curt took it eagerly and he was busily perusing its contents as the Wizard Scout stole away into the darkness of the night.

CHAPTER IX. - THE GANTLET OF FIRE.

" Ready. Warson?"

" All ready."

" Good; these delays make me nervous. Hilloa, Butman, tell the boys we are off."

It is the same hour of the return of the Wizard Scout to Sherman's encampment, but the scene is several miles up the railroad to the Etowah valley.

The southern-bound train loaded with supplies for the northern army has stopped for wood and water, unconscious of a foe ambushed near at hand.

Sherman with his usual forethought had attempted to keep open the road behind him, thus enabling him to keep his army in proper supplies.

Johnston busy with his plans of retreat and protection to himself has found no leisure to dispute the undertaking, until now, a detachment of Folk's division has been sent to capture the incoming train.
Knowing that it must stop at Etowah Crossing, a squad of Confederate soldiers lay in ambush for the expected train. It was the plan to attack the train-force, and overpower them before they could rally from the surprise. Then enough of their number were to take charge of the engine and run the train through to Marietta.

In case those at the crossing should fail, a body of soldiers were lying in wait below, to fire upon the cars as they swept on; and lower down where the road crossed the river the bridge was to be fired, in case the assailants above failed to give the signal of success.

Altogether it was a bold venture likely to be successful in case the surprise was complete.

As we have seen the Wizard Scout had learned of the intended attack, but owing to a change in the programme it was carried into effect twenty-four hours sooner than at first arranged.

Thus his information came too late, or rather was of no value owing to this change, and the surprise was effected.

"Hark! what was that?" exclaimed Engineer Warson, as the sound of some one moving in the thicket reached his ears just as he turned to enter the cab.

There were only three houses at Etowah crossing and these were deserted. The woods on one side reached nearly down to the track. The night was starless, so that a form was not distinguishable any great distance away.

Scarcely had the words left Warson's lips when a sharp voice cried out: " Fire, boys!"

An instant later a volley of bullets whistled about their heads and several of the boys in blue fell where they were standing.

"Up and take them!" thundered the Confederate leader. "Show the Yanks no quarter!"

"Quick! to the train!" cried Warson. " The enemy are upon us!"

Even he was not quick enough to reach the cab.

With cries that would have done credit to a war party of Sioux Indians, the assailants leaped from their coverts, sending another volley of shot into the midst of the startled trainmen.

Cut off from retreat the handful that were left of the latter, unarmed, were at their mercy.

Some fled; others caught up whatever they could to defend themselves with and fought valiantly.

Warson, the engineer, seized a club to defend himself as best he could.

His fireman had fallen at the first volley.

Swinging the club over his head, the engineer dealt his Herculean blows, mowing a path through the surging mob until he reached the engine.

" Don't let him escape!" cried the Confederate chief.

But Warson was too quick for him, and in spite of them sprang upon the cab.

At the same moment, however, three or four of the enemy gained the place.

" Out of this!" exclaimed Warson, and with almost superhuman effort he began to hurl them from the train.

The fighting had now come into such close quarters that the firing had ceased, while the position was such that but few of the assailants could act at once.

Thus in less time than it takes us to describe it, Warson had cleared the cab.

At the same moment he felt a stinging sensation in his left arm and the limb dropped by his side—useless.
Without giving a second thought to this, however, he sprang to the lever and throw open the valve.

Rapid puffs from the wide-mouthed smoke-stack quickly answered his efforts and the iron wheels began to move!

Scarcely knowing whether it was some of their own number or not who was at the lever the Confederates attempted to board the moving train.

Grasping the throttle with his right hand Warson threw it wide open, when with a bound the iron horse obeyed the will of its master.

Wild shouts from the baffled soldiers were heard above the shrieks of the engine, as the long train like a huge serpent crept along its iron track gaining greater impetus at every revolution of the wheels.

Unmindful of the pain from his injured arm Warson stood at his post, while the mad, excited soldiers sent shot after shot hurtling about his head, some of them coming uncomfortably near.

Faster and faster sped the train, the thunder of its iron carriages drowning the yells and firing of the foes. On and on rushed the iron horse with its faithful master at his post goading it on to greater speed, into the very jaws of the trap set for it.

The train had not gone far—more than a couple of miles—when Warson heard some one behind him.

Turning, expecting to meet an enemy, his joy may be imagined when he saw one of the brakeman, who had been upon one of the cars before they had started and come to the engineer's assistance as soon as possible.

"Jim, I'm glad to see you!" exclaimed the engineer. "Did any of the rest escape?"

" I think not."

" Look after the fire-box, Jim. We are good for the gray hounds now."

"But you are wounded," cried the other, seeing for the first time the shattered arm dangling by his side.

" 'Tis nothing to speak of," replied Warson, calmly. " My other arm is all right."

" Let me stop that flow of blood."

" Look to the fire-box first. It must be burning low and it won't do for us to lose any speed."

Jim turned to replenish the fire while they were whirled on through the night with startling velocity, the engine sending out long lines of sparks making their course look like a trail of fire.

Down the descending track they rushed, around sharp curves where the train threatened to leap from the rails, the sullen roar of their lightning-like passage sounding far and clear in the stillness of the night.

Warson stood firmly at his post, his face looking ghastly white in the glare of the engine.

It was a handsome countenance, but the lines around the mouth were closely drawn, and a fierce, haggard expression marked the good looks of his features. It may have come from the pain of his
wounded arm. Quite a pool of blood had formed upon the floor.

It was twenty miles to the Union lines. Could he keep up until the journey was performed?

Warson was peering into the darkness ahead, as if anticipating the coming danger when the brakeman joined him.

"What means that light spot against the sky, Jim?"

"A fire!" was the quick reply, as his companion saw that a broad light had appeared in the space ahead.

"Perhaps——''

In the midst of his speech poor Jim staggered back and pressing his hand to his temple fell at the other's feet.

A lurid glare lit the forest on the right, and the reports of a volley of rifle-shots rang above the confusion of the train.

Going at such headlong speed, however, the ambushed foes were almost instantly passed.

But one shot had seemed to enter the cab, though that was paid for at a dear price.

Jim did not move after he fell.

Warson glanced down upon his motionless figure with an exclamation of pity.

The next moment a sharper and louder cry was wrung from his white lips.

Sweeping around a sharp curve he came suddenly upon the Etowah where it wound sluggishly on its course.

The mystery of the flame-lit sky was solved.

The bridge was on fire!

CHAPTER X. - A WILD RIDE.

It was a startling sight that greeted the gaze of the Union engineer, and he must have been a man with more than common nerve else he would have failed then.

His pallid face grew a trifle more ghastly in the glare of the fire, and his thin lips were more tightly compressed, but he seemed as calm as ever.

The high, precipitous banks of the river were plainly seen in the lurid light of the flames and the water below gleamed a blood red.

The fire had reached the entire length of the bridge, its forked tongues leaping high into the air, while the wooden structure with its long spans looked like a fiery skeleton.

It was too late to stop the train and to keep on seemed certain destruction.

The engineer had no intentions of leaving his post.

With his hand upon the lever he allowed the rushing train to sweep around the winding way and down the descending track upon the burning bridge, which hung a network of fire over the glowing tide forty feet below!

He heard the shouts of men and saw the dark forms of a squad of Confederate soldiers standing on the bank as he dashed past.
Not a shot was fired, however, as they looked upon the fearful spectacle spellbound.

Warson felt the bridge quiver and tremble beneath him as he was carried out over its surging spans, and a cloud of smoke, ashes and cinders filled the cab, for the time blinding him.

The blazing girders overhead shot out their forked tongues of flame and from the timbers below leaped up the sheets of fire enveloping the train in a crimson shroud.

Quick as a flash of lightning almost was the passage made and Warson felt the cool night air upon his heated temples.

He felt the shock of the tottering bridge as the train passed over, and the wheels revolved as before.
For the first time he felt weak and a faintness crept over him. Borne toward another curve he was brought into plain view of the doomed bridge upon which he gazed with a sickening horror.

He had not gone far before a cloud of sparks shot into the night and a portion of the bridge fell into the river!

With a murmured thanksgiving upon his lips he turned his attention to the engine.

Though he had passed the gantlet of his foes he was yet twelve miles from the Union lines wounded and alone upon the train.

Fortunately, however, no further adventure befell him until half an hour later, more dead than alive, he steamed into Sedgeville where Schofield's division was stationed.

Scarcely had the train come to a standstill when he fell senseless, nature unable to withstand more.

Willing hands bore him to camp, and when he slowly opened his eyes at last, eager listeners were waiting for his explanation of the fate that had befallen himself and companions.

His simple story was listened to with wonder, and the next morning he was summoned before the commander.

"Noble fellow!" exclaimed Schofield with great earnestness, " you have won a commission by your bravery and a thirty days furlong."

" Many thanks, general. The first is accepted hoping it is deserved, the last, 1 must decline."

Decline a furlough!" exclaimed the commander with surprise. " You are a queer fellow, and with that disabled arm, too."

Warson smiled grimly. "Perhaps I can do you some other favor."

"You can do me no greater favor, general, than to allow me to shoulder a musket so that I can do my share of the fighting."

" So you are a fighter?" " Where the man wears the gray of the Confederacy. Can I have a place in your ranks?"

"You have a personal hatred of our foes," said Schofleld ignoring the last question.

"General, who would not have a personal hatred against those who had robbed him of those dearest to him and blighted his own life?"

Warson trembled as he spoke so deeply was he moved by the thoughts of the wrongs he had suffered.

"You have held a commission sometime?"

" I was a captain, sir."

"Well, I am going to give you two better. We have been recruiting the 22nd ——, the officers of which have all been killed or disabled. You shall have its command . Under the circumstance, and what you have done, I do not think there will be any dissatisfaction. It looks now as if we may get a few days of rest, which must be very acceptable to you. Colonel Warson, with many thanks for the great service you have done for us, I have the pleasure of wishing you a speedy recovery from your wounds."

The days that followed, though marked with a steady activity by the two armies, witnessed a deadlock in the struggle for a supremacy.

Finding that he could not bring the enemy to a decisive battle without incurring too great odds, Sherman began to slowly move to the left and down the railroad, hoping to execute a flank movement upon his foe.

Johnston, however, was not slow to take up the gantlet, and in a course parallel to that taken by the Union troops he retreated toward the Kennesaw valley.

The result at the end of a week showed the northern forces drawn up at Ackworth still on the line of the railroad, while their enemy had begun to intrench in a position in front of Marietta under the shadows of the encircling mountains.

The positions of the contending forces were thus relatively the same as at Dalton, and Sherman found himself confronted by similar obstacles as at the outset of the campaign.


UNDER TWO FLAGS.

However the astute commander with that tenacity of purpose which characterized his campaign from beginning to end opened hostilities at once.

For over three weeks in skirmish and battle the struggle waxed warm, Johnston the while withdrawing his forces first at Pine and then at Lost Mountain, to concentrate them at the base of the Kennesaw.

Polk in command of his brigade at the former place fell on the 14th of June mortally wounded; his position was assigned to Loring.

McPherson was on Sherman's left and when we know that he was confronted by the spirited Hood, we are sure that his brigade had its share of fighting.

Foremost in his division for daring and successful work was Remington's cavalry, which seemed almost constantly in the saddle.

Those were anxious days to Cavalry Curt in more ways than one, the foremost thought in his mind being the welfare of Mara.

Woodsville was in close proximity to the contending armies—so close that he trembled for her fate.

The Wizard Scout, however, at his first opportunity offered to go to her assistance and if possible have her go to a safer place.

His adventures we must leave until our next chapter.

CHAPTER XI. - FRIENDS OR FOES ?

We must return to Mara Morland in her loneliness and despair.

As we have seen, her relatives had fled from Woodsville—gone no one knew where, their fates the more uncertain to those there because they had espoused the Union cause.

She was looked upon with distrust at first, but there were kind hearts in Woodsville and her forlorn condition aroused their pity.

A kindly widowed lady who had three sons in Johnston's army offered the shelter and comforts of her home.

Mara could do no better than to accept so generous an offer, promising to repay the favor when the cruel war was over.

Kind Mrs. Gray seemed glad to have her company, and the Wizard Scout was fain to leave Mara with her.

"Keep up good courage," he had said to the latter. "I shall see Mr. Remington as soon as possible and will carry the message you wish for him. At the first opportunity one of us will return to you, but do not be alarmed if we do not come speedily. Good-bye and good fortune.

" He seems like a good man," said Mrs. Gray, as they saw him depart. " Does he belong to Johnston's troops?"

"He is a good man," replied Mara, without seeming to notice the question of her friend, not caring to divulge the scout's identity. "At least he has been very kind to me, and had it not been for him I could not have escaped."

" But yees did not tell missus whefer or not de sojer 'longed to Massa Johnsting's troops," broke in an old, decrepit Negro who was allowed the hospitality of Mrs. Gray's home. From whence he had come even she was ignorant, but he had come there so destitute that she had pitied him.

Mara started at the abruptness of the question, and for a moment seemed too confused to quickly recover her presence of mind enough to reply:

"I think he belongs to no particular division but acts as a scout. My brother saw him at Dalton with Johnston."

"So yoes hev a brudder wid John-sting?" asked the inquisitive darkey.

"I had," answered Mara with a calmness that surprised herself. "He was killed at the fight of Wing Ridge near Dalton."

"Aw!" and the Negro seemed satisfied.

'• You need have no fear of Miss Morland's loyalty, Pete," said Mrs. Gray, warmly, and the conversation turned into another channel.

The days that followed brought excitement and dread forebodings to the few inhabitants of Woodsville.

The two great armies seemed to encompass them and not an hour passed without the thunder of the distant cannonading, gradually coming nearer and nearer.

As a week passed and Mara had heard from, nor seen nothing of the scout or her lover, she grew more anxious and restless.

If they should be killed what would become of her? Then she blamed herself for asking such a selfish question.

Poor Mrs. Gray had not heard a word from either of her sons so that she was not alone in her grief.

Near the close of the tenth day hearing loud voices at the door Mara hastened to see what was taking place to find Pete answering the questions of another Negro who, travel - stained and ragged, had stopped at the house.

" I'se want ter find a Missus White," he was saying. " I'se——"

" Go 'long, yer good fer nothin' brack!'' replied Peter. "No Missus White lives in Woodsville."

"Are ye suah?"

" O' course; go 'long I say."


"But I maybe mistooken 'bout de color. Mebbe 'twere blue, or .brawn, or sum sich."

Before Pete could interfere as he intended Mara spoke: " There is a Mrs. Gray——"

"Fore de Lawd, dat's it!" cried the new-comer. " Whar am she?"

"In the house; won't you come in?"

"Better not let him in," whispered Pete. " Mebbe he Yankee spy."

Without heeding him, however, Mara, led the other into the house, he saying: " I's 'portant message for her."

In answer to her inquiries he said: "Lieutenant Gray wanted me to tell his mudder dat he am s'prisin' well."

" That is Charley—and he is well. Oh I'm so glad. And the others—James and Lewis?"

"Dey well, too, I s'peet. Leastway Charley tink so."

" I am thankful! I am thankful!" was all Mrs. Gray could say.

While she was giving expression to her great joy in words more feeling than intelligible the new-comer handed Mara a piece of paper, saying: " Sumthin' I s'peet ye'll be glad to see."

At this moment the dark face of Pete appeared at the door, to vanish in an instant while a low chuckle escaped his lips.

Mara to her joy found that the note Was from Cavalry Curt and that he was well and hopeful.

Below the lover's message in a different hand was written:

"Don't let any one see this. We are watched. Can we trust Mrs. Gray?
" WIZARD SCOUT."

Intuitively she glanced up and in the stalwart frame of the supposed Negro she fancied she saw a resemblance to the massive figure of the strange scout.

He seemed to divine her thoughts, for as his gaze met hers he bowed slightly.

With an effort Mara remained calm.

"Massa Charley want me to ask you if you tink it best to stay hyer longer?"

" Best to stay here longer?" she echoed. " I must. Where can I go?"

" Mebbe if you tink r'al hard you dis-remember a place 'way whar de sojers won't come. Dey be hyer soon."

"Oh, when will this dreadful war be over?" she cried wringing her hands.

" Not 'fore soon I s'peet. So you won't go?"

" I—I don't know. I must have time to think it over.”

"Times is dreful precious. I mus' go suah soon. "Dis gal, her lubber say, go with me."

Mrs. Gray looked surprised at this, though occupied with her own grief she gave little thought to others. She had not mistrusted the new-comer to be other than he represented.

Thus fifteen minutes and it may have been half an hour, for time flies rapidly when we are occupied, passed when the hoof strokes of a body of horsemen was heard.

"Who can it be?" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, running to the window, followed by the others.

They were not kept in suspense long before a squad of soldiers came dashing into sight.

Just, then Pete might have been seen skulking away from the house.

"Look! they are coming here!" cried Mara. "What can they want?"

"Don't be alarmed," said Mrs. Gray. They belong to Johnston's army and we are safe."

Mara, however, was not so confident. The disguised man whatever he might have felt showed no signs weakening.

Reining up in front of the door the soldiers quickly surrounded the house.

CHAPTER XII. - THE WIZARD SCOUT AGAIN.

"Ho, there within!" cried the leader, dismounting and approaching the door.

"What is wanted?" asked Mrs. Gray, trying to appear calm though her lips quivered as she spoke. " We are inoffen——"

" We are after a Union spy who is hiding some where hereabouts."

"He is not here!" replied Mrs. Gray, quickly. "There are only myself, a young lady friend and my servant Pete."

" We are better informed than you, it seems," sneered the officer. " There is some one else with you. Are you going to let us enter peacefully, or will he come out?"

" He—oh, I had forgotten him! But he is not a spy. He came here with a message from my son. I——"

" We want him anyway. Tell him to come out and give himself up like a man, or we'll tear this shanty down over your head."

Mrs. Gray turned pale with terror.

" He is an hon——"

" No more words, if you please. We will give him two minutes to give himself up to us. The house is surrounded and he cannot escape."

Mrs. Gray turned, appealing to the others.

The disguised messenger improved the respite in looking about for some avenue of escape, but seeing none he said to Mrs. Gray:

" Don't be scared, missus; I'll fix it all right wid the sojers. Let me spoke wid 'em."

As he appeared in the doorway a wild shout went up from the soldiers.

" There he comes—'tis him!"

" Wot mought be yer pleasure, massa?" asked the object of their outcries.

"Your surrender, Old Fatality!" replied the officer, boldly. "At last we have tracked you down!"

" Sho!" exclaimed the other. '' Mus' be yer got cl'on on de wrong track. I'se only a poor goo-fer-nothin' brack who's fittin' under Jobnsting."

A dozen rifles had covered him the instant he had appeared in sight, though he did not seem to notice them.

"Come!" exclaimed the officer, impatiently. " You see it is no use to object."

" Mighty s'prisin' to me, massa. I'se so in'fensive, too. An' dese wimmen folks?"

" Shall not be harmed if you give up quietly."

"D'ye swar it, Massa Sojer?" "Yes," was the eager response. "So you give up?"

"Mebbe I had better. But ye ar'to leave the wimmen in peace."

" Yes; come along," said the officer, anxiously: to speak the truth surprised that their victim should have surrendered so quietly, if he was the one they expected . " Bind him, boys.”

" That we will, gladly!" cried half a dozen of his men, springing forward, and seizing the would-be captive, hurled him to the earth and dropping upon him.

" We'll cook yer meat, old ——"

Just how, what followed would be impossible to tell. For a moment the air was filled with Confederate soldiers, and then above their writhing forms rose the other's stalwart figure, a revolver in either hand!

" Don't be too boisterous in your con duct, gentlemen," rang out his clear, defiant tone. " I ask for fair treatment at least until I am in your power."

His voice no longer bore the accent of the African race, and the right arm from which the coat sleeve had been torn was white as any man's present!

The surprised soldiers scrambled to their feet in mad haste.

" Shoot ——"

" Hold!" thundered the disguised scout " I command your life!"

" But you are our prisoner," stammered the startled officer, his men inactive.

" Subject to fair treatment," was the cool reply. " I am no kin of the dog."

"The boys meant no offense. Put down those weapons and you shall be treated fairly."

" See that you do not forget this," and the strange man handed his weapons to the commander.

A minute later the scout was a captive, when he was placed upon the back of a horse, where he was lashed securely as was intended.

Mara and Mrs. Gray witnessed these proceedings with anxious hearts. The last did not understand the cause which had led to the attack and capture, while the former had only a vague idea if its meaning.

" Good day, ladies," said the Confederate leader, politely. "We are glad to rid you of so troublesome a companion and no doubt you feel relieved. You will have to thank your Negro for hid faithful and prompt action in the matter."

Without further delay the cavalcade dashed away bearing their dreaded foe in their midst.

Pete from around the corner of the house watched their departure with a low chuckle.

" I's reckon I'se smart enuff fer de Wizard den. Golly warn't I smart? I s'pect I'se a rich gen'leman," and he began to count the silver piece? paid him for his treachery.

"Who was he? and what does it mean?" moaned Mrs. Gray, wringing her hands and appealing to Mara.

"I—I am not certain!" faltered the latter, not wishing to tell ail. "What will they do with him?”

" If he is a spy, he will be shot, poor fellow."

"And we are left without friends," murmured Mara.

Meanwhile the exultant captors rode merrily on their way toward their encampment, proud of the work they had done. Well they might be, too, with the most dangerous man in the northern forces a prisoner among them.

Now that they had him secure the captive was subjected to some severe cross-questioning, and not a few coarse jokes were given at his expense, all of which he bore with a stoical indifference.

A couple of miles from Woodsville the party entered a wooded district, to thread their way silently through the forest.

In the distance could be heard the cannonading of the enemy, telling that hostilities were still existing.
The horsemen had not progressed far when a shrill, maniacal cry rang through the woods.

" What's that?" cried the foremost, running up.

" Some one in trouble, it may be," answered the officer! "Ha! there it is again."

"An' it's ahead of us."

" Push on and we will soon solve the mystery."

The outcries were heard frequently now, while they continued to grow more distinct as they progressed.

Reaching the bank of a river which they must ford the party halted, listening intently for the sounds.

" Its some one in distress. He can't be far ahead. Come on!"

Spurring their horses forward they plunged into the stream to quickly reach the further bank.

Stopping long enough to allow their animals to shake the water from their dripping forms they listened for a repetition of the cry.

While they waited one of their number cried out: "In mercy's name, where's the prisoner?"

The Wizard Scout was missing!

CHAPTER XIII. - BRICK LOGAN'S RE-APPEARANCE.

Never was there a more startled group than that squad of Confederate soldiers looking in vain for their captive.

To a man they swore that he was on the horse just as they had bound him there, when they had entered the stream.

Now the steed was rider less!

Leaving no more trace behind of his disappearance than as if he had been swallowed up by the flood the Wizard Scout had gone from their midst!

"He can't be far away!" exclaimed the leader. " Search the river. He must be in the water. Don't let him escape!"

The party quickly divided into four sections, two following up the stream, one on either side, and the others going down in the same way.

In this way they hoped to find the hiding fugitive who could not be far off.

The banks of the river, however, above and below were marshy and overhung with a thick growth of shrubbery affording many places of concealment to the object of their search.

In one of these coverts half buried in the mud lay the scout, peering out cautiously upon his anxious enemies.

The search of his foes was through, and the pole of one who was raking the water touched the spy's body!

Still the think, matted bushes protected him from their gaze, and thinking they had hit against a log the party moved on down the stream.

An hour was occupied in this diligent search before the Confederates gave up.

"'Taint any use," declared the leader. " The dog well deserves his name. He is in truth a wizard."

"But he can't be but a short ways off."

"Which is nothing in our favor as long as he is invisible. We might as well give up. Come, we'll go back to Woodsville and capture them women. They are in league with him beyond doubt."

"We'll shoot 'em at sight!" cried one of his followers, which cry was echoed by the others.

Maddened by the escape of their captive the horsemen started toward Woodsville at a smart canter to wreak their vengeance upon the inoffensive heads of the two helpless women!

Let us precede them to the home of Mrs. Gray.

Anxiously she and Mara had watched the departure of the soldiers feeling more hopeless than ever before.

With not a friend to whom they could turn in their distress, 'twere little wonder they lost courage.

Pete wisely kept out of sight and half an hour passed without much being said.

Then as Mara was standing by the window she discovered a horseman slowly approaching the house.

The rider seemed to have all that he could do to maintain his seat, while the animal, if we accept an occasional jerk upon the reins, was allowed to follow the bent of his own inclination.

" Who can it be?" exclaimed Mara, as they watched his irregular approach.

" Some drunken soldier, doubtless. And he is coming here! Where is that rascal, Pete?"

Mara did not speak. As the rider came nearer something in his appearance seemed familiar to her.

Eagerly she waited his approach and when she had seen his tawny hair and the bold, handsome face, though careworn and haggard now, a low cry of joy left her lips.

It was Brick Logan!

There are times in the lives of some when the presence even of one disliked and dreaded is a welcome sight.

It was so with Mara Morland then.

Brick Logan had been her enemy, but she hailed his appearance at that time with joy.

As he stopped in front of the house she ran to the door to meet him.

He started at sight of her and in a husky tone he exclaimed: "Can that be you, Mara Morland?"

"It is I, Mr. Logan, as you see. But what has happened to you? You are ill!"

"I am wounded—I fear unto death! Can I come in?"

"Of course. Here, Mrs. Gray, please help me."

With their united efforts they helped the sufferer to dismount and assisted him into the house.

" You are very kind," he murmured as he sank upon a couch. " I could not have gone any further."

" What can we do for you?"

" I need rest and food most of all. It has been three days since I have eaten more than a little raw meat. But how came you here. Mara? You are the last person I thought of seeing here."

While Mrs. Gray brought him some food and he eat it, Mara told him something of her adventures.

" You have had a hard time," he said. '' And you owe it to Major Dermot more than all others."

"I know," said she. "But where have you been and how came you in this sorry plight?"

"I do not wonder at your questions. I have met the reverses of war. I was in the light at Resaca, and later at Cassville. I was taken prisoner there—by whom do you suppose? Cavalry Curt, your lover! Yes; we met in square fight and he was the better man. I was thrown into prison, but with one other succeeded in escaping. The poor fellow with me was soon after shot but as you see, more dead than alive, I am here."

"You have indeed seen hard times. But why didn't you go to General Johnston's army?"

" I am not able to do service. Besides I have seen about enough of fighting. By the way did you know that Major Dermot was killed at Resaca?"

"No."

" He was. Few tears will be shed over his fate, I think. Of course you know of poor Harry's fate. The disgrace they put upon him maddened him and he rushed to death at Wing Ridge. He made a gallant charge."

"Poor Harry! I cannot think of him as no more. How thankful I shall be when the Yankee legion is driven from our land and the war is over."

"The war may soon end. I think it will. But I am not so sure of the defeat of our enemy. In the southwest we have been unsuccessful; Johnston must eventually surrender to Sherman; and then Lee, left alone, must yield. I tell you, Mara, the odds——"

" Hold, Brick Logan! what you say is treason."

He smiled faintly.

" Don't misunderstand me, Miss Morland. Though I may never be able to do battle for it again, I _am still a supporter of the States' cause. We have gone too far to retreat, though I cannot help foreseeing that we are the weaker power and that it is right, for we are in the wrong. They are fighting for the same Union that our forefathers bought with their blood under Sumter and Marion. I do not wonder that you looked surprised, though I repeat that from the very stubbornness of my nature I am yet a faithful Southerner. When conquered I am ready to yield. But I would not blame you, Mara Morland, if your sympathies went out to the Federal cause. Your own side has been your enemy's. All you have suffered is due to those who should have been your protectors. A rebel force made you a fugitive, a rebel fire destroyed your home, a rebel band took your grandfather's life, a rebel bullet ended your brother's career at Wing Ridge, and with a lover in the northern——"

" Stop, Brick Logan, if——"

"Look!" cried Mrs. Gray, excitedly, "there come those soldiers back!''

CHAPTER XIV. - THE SUPERSTITIOUS SOLDIER.

" See! there it is again. I tell you that I am doomed!"

The scene was a camp-fire under the shadows of the Kennesaw Mountain, the silvery bars of moonlight falling aslant across the openings in the forest.

The actors were a body of troops— none other than Remington's cavalry, which was upon a skirmishing expedition against the outlying forces of Johnston.

Half a dozen had gathered around the soldier who made the startling exclamation, their faces showing plainly something of the wonder they felt.

" Look sharp—see! it grows into shape —'tis a perfect coffin! It is as certain as it is that I am looking at you that I shall be killed within twenty-four hours!"

"Nonsense, Dan!" said one of his companions, " you are no more likely to be shot than are any of the rest of us."

" No more likely, it may be, but that's a sure sign that I shall not come out of another fight alive."

"Oh, bosh! I heve known more signs to fail than to come true," persisted the others. " I remember Sam Stearns, when we were camped by Broken Nose, saw a perfect bird in the steam from his coffee pot just as you imagine you see a coffin in yours. He declared that he was going to be shot. Well, we went into a fight
the very next day and he came out with not even a scratch."

"You can say all you have a mind to, Joe; it can't change fate," replied the superstitious soldier with a dogged faith in his belief, and the majority of those around shook their heads.

It is somewhat remarkable how strong a hold these superstitious fancies have upon the minds of those who, while they blindly accept them, must know better.

Put a strong-minded man in the heart of a trackless prairie—alone with his Maker—and he reads strange characters in the air, unheard of sounds are borne to his ears and his sleep is filled with dreams that seem to him startling realities.

The sailor amid the lonely grandeur of his ocean life naturally becomes of a superstitious mind. Nothing is too incredible for his belief, each unusual circumstance or curious combination of events are looked upon by him as an omen of evil or the harbinger of good.

'Tis the same with him who is brought face to ; face with death to the rank of martial duty.

We remember of one comrade in the campaign of Vicksburg who arose one morning from a troubled sleep with a haggard face, and who refused his rations with a solemn shake of the head.

When urged to eat, for we were expecting a hard day's work before us, he exclaimed: "Don't, in mercy's name! I dreamed last night that if 1 eat this morning I should be shot before sunset!

Laughing at his fears we, of course, did not press him further, and to this day he avers that he saved his life by refraining from eating that morning meal!

I knew of another instance of an even more serious nature. It was at the battle of Shiloh and—well, no matter who the poor fellow was.

His companions hearing him moaning as if with a severe pain asked him what the trouble was.

"I shall be shot to-day!" he replied, and his face was as white as the dead then. "I dreamed last night that I stood by the old mill where I used to play when a child. As I was watching the water that sparkled and glowed like silver in its onward course, suddenly it turned to a blood-red and floating upon its surface I saw my own body! I know that it was me for I saw each feature as distinctly as I see you now."

Nothing that his friends could say had any effect in reasoning the poor fellow out of his strange delusion.

Instead of eating his breakfast he scribbled off a letter to the loved ones at home and made arrangements to have his few effects of value to be forwarded to them.

Strangely enough he was the only one killed out of his company during the following day's battle. More often, however, these whims and hallucinations fail than come true.

" Well, all I have got to say, you are a fool, Dan Mason!" we hear uttered by Joe, as we return in imagination to the camp under the Kennesaw.

Further discussion was checked by the appearance of their chief, Cavalry Curt.

" Ho, boys! in five minutes the saddle. We are expected to cut off the retreat of the grays below here. Hark! the firing has opened again with redoubled vigor.

" The sharp cannonading of the contending forces was borne plainly to them; and in a moment all was bustle and activity, in which the fears of the superstitious soldier were quickly forgotten.

It is a beautiful sight the advance of a body of cavalry by daylight, but when that march is made through a trackless wilderness at night it becomes awe-inspiring.

Not a word was spoken as Remington's cavalry found its way through the forest, the sounds of their horses' feet alone betraying their presence.

The wood was not densely grown by any means, so that ever and anon the moonlight streamed across their pathway, lighting up their bronzed faces and glistening trappings with striking effect.

At last their leader halted, and as they imitated his example he pointed to a slight elevation of land to their right where the moonlight fell in silvery beams.

At first they saw nothing to attract their attention, and were at a loss to understand his meaning.
A second glance, however, disclosed to them a sight as strange as it was unexpected.

Beyond the opening rose the perpendicular side of the mountain bare and glistening in the moonlight at places.

Where the ledge shone clear and smooth was outlined the form of a man, gigantic in figure, with one arm pointing down the valley.

Spell-bound the lookers-on gazed upon the form for fully a minute, when it quickly faded from their view.

The little troop looked upon each other with wonder, and even their leader felt uneasy and perplexed.

The shadowy form had pointed in the direction they were going, what then was its import? Naturally it was pronounced an omen of evil.

When they had waited for its reappearance several minutes in vain, Captain Remington ordered an advance.

Nothing, however, could be found to solve the mystery. An ominous silence hung upon the scene.
The soldiers shook their heads.

" Well," declared Cavalry Curt, " if we accept it as an omen of evil we will profit by its warning and be more careful. But •we must not lose further time. Forward!"

Nothing loth the party left the place, though we doubt if there was one who failed to look back ever and anon until they had passed out of sight.

Dan Mason was more nervous than ever.

Half an hour they were creeping upon the foe at the spur of the mountain where It fronts Marietta.

There was little to distinguish this fight from the others we have described. Remington's cavalry did as good work as usual.

They were pitted against the southern lines of Johnston, which after some hard work they succeeded in dislodging.

Cavalry Curt's horse had been shot and on foot, smoke-begrimed and bleeding from several slight wounds, he led the way upon the works.

Dan Mason was close behind, in the excitement of battle having forgotten his superstitious fears.

As he leaped upon the breastworks a dark object as large as one's body left the window of an adjacent building striking him upon the breast and felling him senseless.

A cloud of rebel bullets at that moment filled the air and Curt felt one take away a lock of his hair, while another cut his belt in twain.

" Poor Dan is shot!" cried those who saw him fall, and the next moment the redoubt was taken.

Turning their own pieces upon the retreating Confederates the result was disastrous to them.

Barely had the northern troops gained possession of the post when a hoarse cry was heard coming from the window of the old stone house in the center of the fortifications.

Glancing up in that direction they saw a tall, gigantic form looking down upon them.

He was waving his hand frantically to attract their attention.

"Quick!" he cried, "to the room below! The rebs have fired the magazine and in less than three seconds the whole works will be blown sky high!"

" What madman is that?" asked one of the officers, carelessly, paying no heed to the startling warning.

CHAPTER XV. - STARTLING SURPRISES.

Mara ran quickly to the window to see whether Mrs. Gray had not been mistaken.

The same squad of soldiers that had captured the Wizard Scout was indeed approaching at a smart canter.

"What does it mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, nervously, beginning to wring her hands as was her wont when excited.

" We shall soon know," replied Mara, who was more calm.

"Is it Confederate soldiery?" asked Logan, rising upon one elbow that he might get a sight of the coming horsemen.

"Yes."

"Oh well, have no fear. It will be all right."

" They are here! they are surrounding the house!" gasped Mrs. Gray. "Oh, we shall all be killed?"

"Be calm," said Logan. "Are they dismounting?"

" One of them is, and he fs coming toward the door."

"Better not let him come in. You speak to him, Miss Morland, but leave the door open so if you need my assistance I shall know. Remember you can count upon me for all I am worth."

Encouraged by his words she opened the door to find the Confederate leader within a few feet.

He stopped at sight of her without speaking.

" What do you want here ?" she asked.

"We want you!" he blurted out. You and that other woman. Will you surrender ?"

"I—I do not understand you," she stammered, "We are not——"

" Don't bother with you palaver. We're in a hurry. That chap we took from here slipped us and we believe you are in league with him."

He started forward as he spoke when she cried out, sharply:
"Stop! we are honest women, who are true to the cause of the south. You cannot enter here."

He paused in his course, surprised by her bold command.

"But he was one of Abe Lincoln's spies! How came he her^ if you are not in league with him?"

" I do not know yet that he was a northern spy. He came home with a message for Mrs. Gray who has sons in our army."

" Yes—yes," said Mrs. Gray joining her. " He was a poor, inoffensive Negro."

"An inoffensive nigger!" exclaimed the officer. "You think you can make me believe that when you know he was a white man."

"A white man? Oh lord! no; he was as black as Pete!"

"You lie. and you know it!" retorted the other, fiercely. " He was a Yankee spy and you are in league with him. Come. I can't dally with you longer. Here, boys! help me capture the she-devils at once."

"No—no! keep back!" cried Mara excitedly.

But unheeding her frantic words half a dozen of the soldiers sprang forward to do their leader's bidding.

An unexpected actor appeared upon the scene, however, at that moment.

Brick Logan, who had overheard the foregoing conversation could hear no more. Forgetful of his wounds and the risk he was incurring he quickly reached the door.

"Hold!" he thundered, in a tone that rang out with a startling effect upon the surprised men. "Another step at the peril of your lives; be you friend or foe!"

A cocked revolver was in either hand and they covered the foremost of the squad.

His long, tawny hair falling about his shoulders, his flashing eyes and stalwart figure made him seem a veritable lion.

"Who are you ?" gasped the officer, pausing with dismay.

"One who will defend these ladies to the last," replied Logan, firmly.

"Another spy !" cried one of those in the rear. " 1 told you that there was a regular nest bf them here."

To the insulting words the impetuous southerner made no reply though they cut like a two-edged sword.

With all his mistakes Brick Logan was faithful to the cause he had espoused.

"What means this warring upon defenseless women?" he cried. "Hasn't Johnston's soldiers enough to do that they must make war upon women?"

""They are traitors!" blurted out the officer. "We found the Wizard Scout here and captured him, but he afterward escaped us, so we returned to git these women, who are no better than he."

"You do not know what you are saying now. One of these ladies is a stranger to me, but the other I have known to be true to our cause."

"Pray who are you?" exclaimed the other.

"A rebel of the deepest dye!"

" A rebel!" sneered the officer. "Me-thinks you might have been found in better company than hiding with Yankee spies!"

Logan trembled from head to foot as he listened to the cutting words.

You need not carry so high a head; the less trouble you make us the better it will be for you. We shall have to ask your surrender along with the women."

"You may find it easier asking than petting. I have but just escaped from a Yankee prison and to exchange it for a Confederate pen—never!"

"Ho! the cloven-foot begins to show! You——"

"Cloven-foot or no—a rebel or one of Abe Lincoln's hirelings—I am here to defend this girl with my life."

" Then it will be with your life for——"

"Hold! I'll not listen to another word! Speak again and I will put a bullet through your heart as true as my name is Brick Logau! I never eat my words!"

There was a deadly earnestness in his tone which sent a chill through the other's frame, while the ominous muzzles of the revolvers stared him in the face.

Just how this startling scene would have ended we cannot tell, had not an unlocked for denouement taken place.

Since early morning the firing of the foes had been plainly heard, growing more and more distinctly each hour, until now it seemed near at hand.

In truth it was so. Hardee, the commander of the Confederate left wing, bad been steadily retreating before Schofield's persistent opposition, until falling back to Woodsville, where he thought to make a final stand.

Schofleld was the first to recover from the shock, and throwing his troops upon the other before he could rally the Confederates were routed.

Woodsville was won, and Johnston was obliged to take another backward step.

Meanwhile the Confederate squad surrounding Mrs. Gray's house had been aroused to the sense of their situation.

Thinking more of their own preservation than the capture of the others, they hastened to join the main forces and were with them in their disastrous retreat.

" We can do no better than to remain here," declared Brick Logan. " If the Union troops capture the place we shall be taken prisoners. It is inevitable. Oh, that 1 were able now to shoulder a musket."

Chafing thus like a lion, bearded in his den, he watched and waited with Mara and Mrs. Gray for the result of the battle.

They knew that a fearful fight was being waged and Logan soon saw that the Confederate lines were weakening.

"We are beaten!" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Johnston is going to be driven from Marietta as true as fate."

24
UNDER TWO FLAGS

"And then?"

" Defeat—defeat in the end! Ha! the boys are routed! The firing on one side has almost ceased. The Yanks have won the day! We are lost!"

Poor Mrs. Gray wrung her hands more wildly than ever; Mara was more calrn though she shuddered as she thought of the possible fate awaiting them.

" Here they come!" said Logan with a forced calmness. "Be hopeful for they will at least treat you well, ladies. As for myself, of course a soldier expects to meet with the fortunes of war."

Foremost among Schofleld troops was the division in which Colonel Warson led his regiment.

Though still carrying his arm in a sling the latter had persisted in leading his regiment and no one did better service than he.

Riding at the head of his troops he it was, who came sweeping down upon that portion of Woodsville where stood Mrs. Gray's cottage.

As he dashed up he caught sight of Logan, who had defiantly stationed himself in the doorway.

"Halt!" he cried reining in his horse abruptly. "Here——"

Whatever command was to follow never left his lips.

A second glance at the burly southerner brought him a startling discovery.

"Brick Logan, is that you?"

The surprise of the other allowed him to simply say: "Harry Morland!"

The sound of that name reaching Mara's ears, she rushed to the door.

Before he could recover from his surprise, she cried: "Harry, my brother! safe!"

He could only murmur: "Mara!"

A moment later they were locked in each other's arms.