had been sniffing at the closet door, returned to the
fireplace.

"Why, since when have you started to keep dogs, parson?" asked the last
speaker.

The minister had an inspiration.

"That dog walked in here this evening," he said. "I believe him to be the
dog of the boy you speak of." He spoke truth, but he had evaded answering
the leading question.

"Great George!" cried the man at the fireplace. "Then some of the spies
are in the neighborhood yet!" There were shouts of assent from his
companions.

"When did the dog stray in?" was asked.

"More than an hour ago," said Mr. Buckley.

"Come, let's try another hunt!" called out a young planter. The men were
out of the house the next minute, separating into groups of two and three
to scour the countryside. The lights of their lanterns, which had shone
out in the rain like will-o'-the-wisps, grew dimmer and dimmer, and
finally disappeared.

As the front door closed the minister sat down near the table, and buried
his face in his hands.

"I wonder if I did wrong," he said, almost to himself. "But I could not
take a life--and that is what it would have been if I had given them up."

"Pa, you're too soft-hearted for this world," snapped Miss Cynthia.

Mrs. Buckley looked at her daughter reprovingly.

"Your father is a minister of the gospel," she said solemnly, "and he has
shown that he can do good even to his enemies."

Mr. Buckley arose, and listened to the sound of the retreating neighbors.
Then he opened the door of the closet. Watson and George jumped out
joyfully, half smothered though they were, and began to overwhelm the old
man with thanks for their deliverance.

He drew himself up, however, and refused their proffered hand shakes.
There was a stern look on his usually gentle face.

"I may have saved your necks," he said, "because I would sacrifice no
human life voluntarily, but I do not forget that you are enemies who have
entered the South to do us all the harm you can."

"Come," said Watson, "it's a mere difference of opinion. I don't care what
happens, George and I will never be anything else than your best
friends!"

"That is true," cried George; "you can't call us enemies!"

The manner of the minister softened visibly; even Miss Cynthia looked less
aggressive than before.

"Well, we won't discuss politics," answered Mr. Buckley. "You have as much
right to your opinions as I have to mine. But I think I have done all I
could be expected to