CHAPTER VIII

MRS. BUNGAY DEFENDS HER HEARTHSTONE


A hand pressing hard upon my arm brought back my scattered senses with
a rush. It was Mrs. Brennan who stood there, her face whitened by
anxiety, her eyes peering anxiously through the opening of the door.
Imminent danger may startle even a trained soldier, but any necessity
for action always recalls him to duty, and that one glance at her
sufficed to make me myself again.

"Surely those men are not soldiers, Captain Wayne!" she exclaimed.
"They wear uniforms of both armies."

"No doubt they are guerillas," I answered, drawing her back from where
she might be seen in their approach. "We must find hiding if possible,
for you shall never fall into such hands. Bungay!"

I turned toward where the little giant had been sitting, but he was not
to be seen. However, the sound of my voice aroused Maria to a full
sense of our danger, nor was she a woman to hesitate in such emergency.
With a single stride she crossed the narrow room, caught the white-
faced hero by the collar of his shirt, dragged him ignominiously forth
from beneath the table where he had sought refuge, shook him as she
would shake a toy dog, until his teeth rattled, and then flung him out
of the door leading into the back shed. It was done so expeditiously