Mr. Crawford was what is known as an original Abolitionist. Before the war
his house was one of the stations of the underground railroad, and many a
runaway slave he had helped on the way to Canada. Twice he had been
arrested by the United States officials for violation of the fugitive
slave law, and both times fined heavily. He believed there could be no
virtue in a slave-owner; such a man was accursed of God, and should be
accursed of men. His daughter had to a degree imbibed his sentiments, and
the idea of slavery was abhorrent to her; but her heart was so gentle, she
could hate no one. Calhoun's helplessness appealed to her sympathies, and
she forgot he was one of Morgan's raiders. Although young, only eighteen,
she had admirers by the score, but her father so far had forbidden her
receiving company, considering her as yet only a child.

Joyce's beau ideal of a man was her brother Mark, and he was worthy of her
adoration. Several years her senior, he had watched over and guided her in
her childhood, and never was a brother more devoted.

The next morning the news came that Morgan was captured, and the scare in
Columbiana County was over. The morning also brought Miss Crawford, who
had come hurrying home on receipt of the news that Morgan was in the
county. She nearly went into hysterics when she learned that one of the
dreadful raiders was in the house. "How could you do it, child?" she cried
to Joyce; and "Doctor, why did you let her?" she added to Doctor Hopkins,
who had just come in to see his patient.

"Madam, it was a case of life or death," replied the Doctor. "Joyce did
right. We are not heathens in Columbiana County."

"But you will take him right away?" pleaded the lady.

"It would be death to move him."

"But he might murder us all," said Miss Crawford.

The Doctor smiled. "If he lives, it will be weeks before he will have the
strength to kill a fly," he answered.

Miss Crawford sighed, and gave up the battle. She was not a hard-hearted
woman, but the idea of having one of Morgan's dreadful raiders in the
house was trying on her nerves.

The afternoon brought Major Crawford. The story of Joyce's capture of a
raider had travelled far and wide, and the Major had already heard of it.
"So you captured a prisoner, did you, Puss?" he exclaimed, kissing her, as
she threw herself in his arms. "Is he a regular brigand, and bearded like
a pard?"

"No, no, he is young, almost a boy," she answered. "Marga