soon; and come it did. A picket, watching the river road, saw
young Jasper's horse coming along the dark bushes far up the river,
and brought the news to the group standing behind old Sam's
cabin. The gray galloped into sight, and, skirting the woods, came
straight for the town-with a woman on his back. The stirrup of a
man's saddle dangled on one side, and the woman's bonnet had
fallen from her head. Some one challenged her.

Stop, I tell ye! Don't ye go near that courthouse! Stop, I tell ye! I'll
shoot! Stop!"

Rome ran from the cabin with a revolver in each hand. A drunken
mountaineer was raising a Winchester to his shoulder, and,
springing from the back of the gray at the court-house steps, was
Martha Lewallen.

"I'll kill the fust man that lifts his finger to hurt the gal," Rome
said, knocking the drunken man's gun in the air. "We hain't fightin'
women!"

It was too late to oppose her, and the crowd stood helplessly
watching. No one dared approach, so, shielding with her body the
space of the opening door, she threw the sack of food within. Then
she stood a moment talking and, turning, climbed to her saddle.
The gray was spotted with foam, and showed the red of his nostrils
with every breath as, with face flushed and eyes straight before
her, she rode slowly toward the crowd. What was she about?
Rome stood rigid, his forgotten pistols hanging at each side; the
mouth of the drunken mountaineer was open with stupid wonder;
the rest fell apart as she came around the corner of the cabin and,