Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 August 1912 — My Lady of the North [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

My Lady of the North

Tiff LOVE STORY OF A GRAY JACKET

by RANDALL PARRISH

WHEN WILDERNESS WAS KING " jff nhistrafioßSbMrihurTAX tVliamsOTV —II I •

CHAPTER IV. A Woman With a Temper. I think we must have been fully an hour at it, riding, at no mean pace, and with utter disregard of danger. Although I knew little of where we were, and nothing as to the condition the path we traversed, yet so complete was my confidence in Craig that i felt no hesitancy in blindly following :he pace he set. Then a black shape ;oomed up before us so suddenly that It was only by a quick effort I prerented a collision. Even as I held my horse poised half in air, I perceived It was Craig himself who blocked the way, “What is it, sergeant?” “A picket, sir, at the end of the road,” he said, quietly. “I kinder reck-' pned they’d hev some sort o’ guard '|r. so I crept up on the quiet ter be sure. The feller helped me out a bit by strikin’ a match ter see what time ’twas, or I reckon I’d a walked over him in ther dark.” “Had we better ride him down?” I asked, thinking only how rapidly the night hours were speeding and of the importance of the duty pressing upon us.

“Not with ther woman, sir,” he answered in a low, reproachful voice. “Besides we never could git through without a shot, an’ if by any dern luck It should turn out to be a cavalry outpost—an’ I sorter reckon that’s what it Is—why, our horses are in no shape fer a hard run. You uns better wait here, sir, an’ let me tend ter that soger man quiet like, an* then p’raps we uns kin all slip by without a stlrrin’ up ther patrol.” “Well,” I said, reluctantly, yielding to what I felt was doubtless the wiser course, and mechanically grasping the rein be held out to me, “go ahead. But be careful, ’ and don’t waste any time, if we hear the sound of a shot we shall ride forward under spur.” , “All right, sir, but there’ll be no j fuss, fer I know Just whar ther feller Is.” Time seems criminally long when one is compelled to wait in uncertainty, every nerve on strain. “Hold yourself ready for a sudden start,” I said, warningly to my com-] panion. *Tf there is any noise of a i struggle yonder I shall drive in the' spurs.” As I spoke I swung the Sergeant’s ; horse around to my side, where I could control him more readily. There was no reply from the woman, but I noticed she endeavored to draw together the flapping cape of her cloak, as though she felt chilled by the wind and her figure seemed to stiffen in the saddle.. It came at last —not the sharp flash of a musket cleaving the night In twain, but merely the tall figure of the sergeant, stealing silently out of the gloom like a black ghost, and standing at our very horses' heads. “All clear, sir,” he reported In a matter-of-fact tone. “But we shall hev ter move mighty quiet, fer ther main picket post ain’t more nor a hundred yards ter the right o’ ther crossln’.”

He did not remount, but, with reins flung loosely over his arm, led the way slowly forward, and carefully we followed hjm. What had become of the sentinel I did not know, respecting Craig’s evident desire for silence; but as we drew nearer the "White Briar road I sought in vain to pierce the dense gloom and note some sign of a struggle, some darker shadow where a body might be lying. There was nothing visible to tell the story. The sergeant walked without the least hesitation across the open space, directly Into the deep shadows Aopposlte, where the cross-road continued to hold way. Crouching low in the saddle, we followed him as silently as though we were but spirits of the night "Up the road I caught the red gleam of a Are almost spent, and a black figure crossed us, casting an odd' shadow against the fgce of the rock where it was lighted by the flickering red blaze. It was all over in a moment, a mere glimpse, but It formed one of those sudden pictures which paint themselves on the brain and can never after be effaced. I recall yet the long shade cast by the man’s gun, the grotesque shape of his flapping army overcoat, the quick change in the silhouette as he wheeled to retrace his beat. But there was no noise, not even the sound of his footsteps, reaching us. Even as I gazed, lying open at full length upon my horse, we had crossed the open, and a perfect tangle of low bushes hid us as completely as if we had entered the yawning mouth of a cavern. A hundred yards or more of sharply curving road densely lined with shrubbery on either hand, and then Craig swung into saddle and again gave spur to his horse. “We must ride for it now,” he said, tersely. “When thet patrol makes their round, them fellers will be after us hot.”

I urged my tired horse to a gallop, pressing upon Craig’s heels as closely as I dared; nor did I glance back, for I knew well that a dead picket was lying somewhere by the cross-roads, and that his comrades would be heard from before dawn. We were moving bravely now; for the road under foot grew better as we advanced, and gave back the dull thud of soft earth Instead of the rattling clang of the rocks we had been so long accustomed to. Then, suddenly, my horse was jerked almost to a standstill, the hand upon his bit seemingly as hard as my own, and I wheeled in the saddle, pressing my knees tightly to prevent being thrown, only to perceive the woman tugging desperately at the lines. * “What now?” I asked sharply, and in sudden anger I forced her to release her grasp. “We must ride, and ride hard, madam, to be out of this cordon by daylight.” “Ride where?” She faced me stiffly, and there was a slight sting in her voice, I felt. “Where?” I repeated; then partially gathering my scattered wits: “Why, to the camp we are seeking, of course.”

I was conscious that her eyes were striving anxiously to see my face in the darkness —that her suspicions were now fully aroused; yet her quick retort surprised me. “You lie!” she said, coldly. "That was a Federal picket he killed.” It was no time for argument, and 1 knew It. Craig, noting our pause, had ridden back, and reined in beside us without a word. “You are right,” I said, tersely. “In one sense of the word ybu are a prisoner, for the time being, at least, but not through any wish of mine. We do not make war on and your being in this situation is altogether an accident. However, be that as it may, we must, first of all, protect ourselves. I would very gladly leave you with your friends, if possible, but as things have shaped themselves there remains but one alternative —you must ride as I order.” “You—you are not Major Brennan's friend then? You were not sent by Frank to meet me?” The questions burst from her lips so rapidly that I scarcely caught their Import. “I am Captain Phillip Wayne, —th Virginia cavalry, at your service, madam,” I said, calmly, “and to the best of kny knowledge I have not the pleasure of Major Brennan's acquaintance.”

She suddenly lifted the heavy riding whip that was clenched In her right hand, struck me with it full across the face, and then, as I quickly flung up my own arm to ward off a second blow, she sent the lash swirling down upon the flank of her horse. With one bound the maddened animal wrenched the reins from out my hands, nearly dragging me from the saddle, and swerving sharply tc the left. There was a shock, a smothered oath, a moment’s fierce struggle in the darkness, the sharp ping of the whip as It came down once, twice — then silence, broken only by deep breathing. “I’ve got her, captain,” chuckled the sergeant, softly, *b*ut dog-gone If ] know what to do with her.” There was small sentiment of mercy tn my heart as I drew up toward them, for my cheek burned where the lash had struck as though scorched with fire; but when I saw her leaning helplessly forward on her horse’s neck, all bravado gone, her hands pinioned behind her in the iron grasp of the sergeant, my fierce resentment died away within me. “Let her hands go, Craig,” I commanded, briefly. She lifted her body slightly from its cramped, uncomfortable posture, but her head remained bowed.

“Madam,” —I spoke sternly, for moments were of value now—’’listen to what I say. We are Confederate soldiers passing through the Federal lines with dispatches. In order to save' ourselves from discovery and capture we were compelled to take you In charge. It was the fortune of war. If now we could honorably leave you here we would most gladly do so, for having you with us adds vastly to our own danger; but these mountains are simply overrun with wandering guerrillas who would show you neither respect nor mercy. We simply dare not, as honorable men, leave you here unprotected, and consequently you must continue to ride in our company. Now answer me plainly, will you proceed quietly, or shall we be compelled to tie you to your horse?” I knew she was crying; bu.t with an effort she succeeded In steadying her voice sufficient to reply: “I will go,” she said. “Thank you,” and I gravely lifted my hat as I spoke. “You have saved me a most unpleasant duty. You may ride on, sergeant; this lady and I will follow, as before.” She scarcely changed her posture as I spurred forward, riding now so close to her aide that I could feel the

flap of her saddle rise and fair against my knee. Whatever of evil she may have thought of us, I felt that she was sorry enough now’ for her hasty action, and I forgot the pain that yet stung me, and longed, without well knowing how, to tell her so. (To be Continued.)

I Quickly Flung Up My Arm to Ward Off a Second Blow.