ing their defiant answer to
Beauregard's batteries. Jennie watched the lurid track of his shells
with sickening dread.

A man standing beside her in the gray dawn spoke.

"A waste of ammunition!"

The cannon boomed now with the regular throb of a great human pulse. The
sobs and excited cries and prayers of women had become a part of the
weird scene.

A young mother stood beside Jennie with a baby boy in her arms. He was
delighted with the splendid display and the roar of the guns.

He pointed his fingers to the circling shells and cried:

"'Ook, mamma, 'ook!"

The mother made no answer. Only with her hungry eyes did she follow
their track to the shore. Her mate was there.

The baby clapped his hands and caught the rhythm of the throb and roar
of the cannon in his little voice:

"Boom!--Boom!"

The sun rose from the sea, a ball of dull red fire glowing ominously
through the haze of smoke that hung in the sky.

Hour after hour the guns pealed, the windows rattled and the earth
trembled.

Couriers were dashing into the city with reports from the batteries.
Soldiers were marching through the streets. It was reported that the men
from the fleet would attempt a landing.

The women rushed to the little iron balcony and watched the troops
marching to repel them.

In the first line Jennie saw the tall figure of Dick Welford. He glanced
upward, lifted his cap and held it steadily in his hand for four blocks
until they turned and swept out of sight.

Jennie was leaning on the rail with tear-dimmed eyes.

"I wonder why that soldier took his hat off?" her aunt asked.

"Yes--I wonder!" was the soft answer.

By three o'clock it was known that not a man had been killed at either
of the shore batteries and women began to smile and breathe once more.

The newsboys were screaming an extra.

Jennie hurried into the street and bought one.

In big black headlines she read:

RICHMOND AND WASHINGTON ABLAZE WITH EXCITEMENT!

THE NORTH WILD WITH RAGE

VIRGINIA AND NORTH CAROLINA ARMING TO COME TO OUR RESCUE!

She walked rapidly to the water's edge to get the latest news from the
front. A tiny rowboat was deliberately pulling through the harbor
squarely under the guns of Sumter. She watched it with amazement,
looking each moment to see it disappear beneath the waves. It was
probably her foolish father.

With steady, even stroke the boatman pulled for the shore as unconcerned
as if he were listening t