"Really!" she exclaimed; "I need no one to guard me."

But the soldier was obdurate. He motioned his comrade down the road.

"Watch at the turn," he ordered; "he may come back or send some of the
Blues to take us. I'll stay here and protect the lady."

Again Miss Farrar protested, but the sergeant, in a benign and fatherly
manner, smiled approvingly. Seating himself on the grass outside the
fence, he leaned his back against the gatepost, apparently settling
himself for conversation.

"Now, how long might it have been," he asked, "before we showed up, that
you seen us?"

"I saw you," Miss Farrar said, "when Mr.--when that bicycle scout was
talking to me. I saw the red bands on your hats among the bushes."

The sergeant appeared interested.

"But why didn't you let on to him?"

Miss Farrar laughed evasively.

"Maybe because I am from New York, too," she said. "Perhaps I wanted to
see soldiers from my city take a prisoner."

They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the smaller soldier.
On his rat-like countenance was written deep concern.