se, and send for Doctor Hopkins, quick," she said.

"What! that dirty, bloody thing! Better let us carry him to the barn. It's
a blame sight better place than our boys get down South."

"The house, I say," answered the girl, sharply.

"Why, Miss Joyce," said the other man, as he looked at her, "you are
covered with blood."

"Yes, I caught him as he fell from his horse," she answered. "I am not
hurt."

The men were about to pick Calhoun up and carry him in according to the
directions of the girl, when she exclaimed, "There comes Doctor Hopkins
now."

Sure enough, the Doctor had heard of the fight, and was coming at a
remarkable speed, for him, to see if his professional services were
needed. He reined in his horse, and jumping from his gig, ejaculated,
"Why! why! what is this? And Miss Joyce all bloody!"

"I am not hurt. The man, Doctor," she said.

The Doctor turned his attention to Calhoun. "As I live, one of Morgan's
men," he exclaimed, "and hard hit, too. How did he come here?"

"His horse brought him," answered one of the men. "He clung to his horse
as far as here, when he fell off. Miss Joyce caught him as he fell. That
is what makes her so bloody."

"Well! well! well!" was all that the old Doctor could say.

"The queer part is," continued the man, "that the horse belongs to Andrew
Harmon. I heard that Andrew had gone out with the Home Guards, but I could
hardly believe it. I guess this fellow must have killed him and
appropriated the horse."

"What! Andrew Harmon killed in battle?" cried the Doctor, straightening up
from his examination of Calhoun. "Don't believe it. He will turn up safe
enough."

Then speaking to the girl, the Doctor said, "Miss Joyce, this man has
nearly bled to death. I cannot tell yet whether the ball has entered his
head or not. If not, there may be slight hopes for him, but he must have
immediate attention. It is fortunate I came along as I did."

"Miss Joyce wanted us to take him into the house," said one of the men,
"but I suggested the barn."

"The barn first," said the Doctor; "if I remember rightly, there is a
large work-bench there. It will make a fine operating-table. And, Joyce,
warm water, towels, and bandages."

Joyce Crawford, for that was the girl's name, flew to do the Doctor's
bidding, while the men, to their credit be it said, picked Calhoun up
tenderly and carried him to the barn, where the work-bench, as the Doctor
had suggested, made an operating-table.