silent as a statue, exactly where she had alighted when the Sergeant
took her horse, and it seemed to me I could plainly read righteous
indignation in the indistinct outline of her figure and the haughty
pose of her head. To her at that moment I was evidently a most
disagreeable and even hated companion, a "Rebel," the being of all
others she had been taught to despise, the enemy of all she held
sacred. "Could any good thing come out of Nazareth?"

Well, unpleasant as was the task, it had to be done, so, mustering my
courage for the ordeal as I never had to do in time of battle, I
advanced toward her, hat in hand. She never so much as glanced about at
the sound of my footsteps, nor deigned by the slightest motion to
acknowledge my presence. So intense, indeed, was her evident sense of
indignity that it awoke within me something akin to anger at her
unreasonableness, and for the moment I clinched my teeth to keep back
the hot words burning upon my tongue. Then I smiled grimly with the
rare humor of it, and became myself once more.

"The time has come when it becomes my duty to look after your comfort
and safety," I said, striving to disguise all self-consciousness.
"Every moment we delay now merely increases the danger of our remaining
here."

"I imagine I might very easily dispense with any further care on your
part."

Her reply nettled me, and I answered with an earnestness which she
could neither ignore nor check: "Possibly you may think so, but if you
do it is merely because of your utter ignorance of the disorganized
conditions which prevail in these mountains. Your pride is almost