ve harmed one hair of
this kindly minister's head.

"I _am_ a Northerner," said Watson, "and I _am_ one of the men who stole a
train at Big Shanty this morning. We got within a few miles of
Chattanooga, and then had to abandon our engine, because we were trapped.
We tried to burn bridges, but we failed. We did no more than any
Southerners would have done in the North under the same circumstances."

It was at this point that George awoke. He saw at once that something was
wrong but he prudently held his tongue, and listened.

"You are a spy," reiterated Miss Cynthia, "and you know what the
punishment for that must be--North or South!"

"Of course I know the punishment," said Watson, with deliberation. "A
scaffold--and a piece of rope."

The minister shuddered. "They wouldn't hang the boy, would they?" asked
his wife anxiously.

Mr. Buckley was about to answer, when Miss Cynthia suddenly cried,
"Listen!"

Her sharp ears had detected some noise outside the house. She left the
room, ran to the front door, and was back again in a minute.

"Some of the neighbors are out with dogs and lanterns, looking, I'm sure,
for the spies," she announced excitedly, "and they are coming up the
lane!"

The first impulse of Watson was to seize George, and run from the house.
But he realized, the next instant, how useless this would be; he could
even picture the boy being shot down by an overwhelming force of
pursuers.

"They are coming this way," said Mr. Buckley, almost mournfully, as the
sound of voices could now be plainly heard from the cozy kitchen.

"We are in your hands," said Watson, calmly. He turned to the minister.

"You are fighting against my country, which I love more dearly than life
itself," answered Mr. Buckley. "I can have no sympathy for you!" His face
was very white; there was a troubled look in his kindly eyes.

"But they will be hung, father!" cried the blue-eyed daughter.

"I'm ashamed of you, Rachel," said Miss Cynthia. Mrs. Buckley said
nothing. She seemed to be struggling with a hundred conflicting emotions.
Waggie ran to her, as if he considered her a friend, and put his forepaws
on her dress.

"Are you going to give us up?" asked Watson.

"I am a loyal Southerner," returned the minister, very slowly, "and I know
what my duty is. Why should I shield you?"

Watson turned to George.

"It was bound to come," he said. "It might as well be to-night as
to-morrow, or the next day." The pursuers were