you in a moment." Then he turned to Mrs. Cary, his face stern with
resolve.

"Madam," he said crisply, "you are not alone on this plantation with
only this old negro. We are wasting time. I'm after a Rebel scout and _I
want him_. Which way did he go?"

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, quite ready to play her game again. "But our
Rebel scouts usually neglect to mention their precise intentions."

"Perhaps. If this one went at all. Is he still here?"

"I should imagine--_not_."

"Then he did go this way--to the river crossing?"

Once more he caught and held her eyes and thought he would read the
truth in spite of anything she might say.

But while he looked he saw her strained face suddenly relax--saw the
anxiety flee from her eyes--saw heart and soul take on new life. From
far away across the river had come some faint popping sounds, regularly
spaced--_three shots_.

"Ah!" he said, in wonder. "What is that?"

"It _sounds_," laughed Herbert Cary's wife, "like firing. But I think it
is a friend of mine saluting me--from the safe side of the river. Good
evening, Colonel," and she swept by him. She could go find Virgie now.