s the small door I've already mentioned. Malone's
wife at this started forward, and catching Barton's arm, whispered a few
words in his ear.

"She must be a very old woman by this time," said Barton, fixing his
sharp eyes on the speaker.

"Upwards of ninety, sir, and bedridden for twelve years," said the
woman, wiping a tear away with her apron.

"And how comes it she's so afraid of the soldiers, if she's doting?"

"Arrah! they used to frighten her so much, coming in at night, and
firing shots at the doore, and drinking and singing songs, that she
never got over it; an that's the rayson. I 'll beg of your honor not to
bring in the sergeant, and to disturb her only as little as you can, for
it sets her raving about battles and murders, and it 's maybe ten days
before we 'll get her mind at ease again."

"Well, well, I'll not trouble her," said he, quickly, "Sergeant, step
back for a moment."

With this he entered the room, followed by the woman whose uncertain
step and quiet gesture seemed to suggest caution.

"She 's asleep, sir," said she, approaching the bed. "It 's many a day
since she had as fine a sleep as that. 'T is good luck you brought us
this morning, Mister Barton."

"Draw aside the curtain a little," said Barton, in a low voice, as if
fearing to awake the sleeper.

"'Tis rousing her up, you'll be, Mister Barton, she feels the light at
wanst."

"She breathes very long for so old a woman," said he somewhat louder,
"and has a good broad shoulder, too. T 'd like, if it was only for
curiosity, just to see her face a little closer. I thought so! Come,
captain; it 's no use--"

A scream from the woman drowned the remainder of the speech, while at
the same instant one of the young men shut-to the outside door, and
barred it. The sergeant was immediately pinioned with his hands behind
his back, and Malone drew his horse-pistol from his bosom, and holding
up his hand, called out,--

"Not a word,--not a word! If ye spake, it will be the last time ever
you 'll do so!" said he to the sergeant

At the same moment, the noise of a scuffle was heard in the inner room,
and the door burst suddenly open, and Barton issued forth, dragging in
his strong hands the figure of a young, slightly-formed man. His coat
was off, but its trousers were braided with gold, in military fashion;
and his black mustache denoted the officer. The struggle of the youth to
get free was utterly fruitless; Barton's grasp was on his col