said soberly. "The mountains all about us, deserted as they now appear,
are filled with wandering bands of desperate and hunted men whose
tenderest mercy is death. Any rock may be the hiding-place of an
outlaw, any dark ravine the rendezvous of as wild a gang as ever
murdered for plunder. For months past--yes, for years--the two great
armies have scouted these hills, have battled for them, and every
forward or backward movement of the contesting lines has left its
worthless horde of stragglers behind, until with guerilla and
bushwhacker, fleeing conscript and deserter, it has become such a
meeting-place of rascality and crime as to be a veritable hell on
earth."

"But the Sergeant said there was a Federal picket post at the crossing
of the White Briar."

Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"He merely supposed there would be; but even if it were true, we have
no positive means of knowing that the men stationed there would be of
the regular service. Doubtless these thieving, murdering bands--such as
that headed by Red Lowrie, of whom you may have heard--are sufficiently
organized to keep patrols posted, and may, indeed, be utilized at times
by both armies for that purpose. Were you to go to them you might be
simply walking into a den of wolves."

"But could you not go with me?"

I smiled at the naive innocence of her query.

"I wish you to feel that I have never thought so much about my own