derals?"

"Being as he was your son, Colonel," said the leader, saluting, "we
thought----"

"Your business is to obey orders, not to think," interrupted the officer
brusquely. "He is no son of mine. My son died to me long ago."

"Dad," cried the cheery voice of Bob as she came toward him. "They say
that you have caught a spy. Where is he? Why----" Her gaze fell upon the
prisoner and she stopped short. "Frank," she cried, shrilly, "it's Frank!
Oh, dad, what does it mean?"

"It means," said the Colonel, trying to draw her away, "that you have no
brother, Bob. This man is nothing to you. He is a spy and as such dies
at sunrise."

"At sunrise!" shrieked Bob. "No, no!"

"Away with that fellow," ordered the Colonel, harshly. "And mind! I shall
hold each one of you personally responsible for his safety. Bob," as the
soldiers bore his son away, "you are under arrest. Go to your quarters and
stay there until I release you. And you also," to Jeanne.

"You have no right to arrest me, Colonel Peyton," said Jeanne coldly. "I
refuse to obey any man who sentences his own son to death."

"You refuse to obey me?" cried the Colonel, loth to believe his ears. "Me?"

"Yes, sir, you. I do not consider myself under arrest. You have no right
to put me there. I am neither your daughter nor your slave," and Jeanne
put her arm around Bob and faced him defiantly.

"There are ways of enforcing obedience, young lady," said the Colonel.
"Bob, to your quarters."

"But, dad,----"

"To your quarters," commanded her father sternly. "Johnson," to a soldier,
"see that these girls are well-guarded until I give other orders."

And so it came about that a guard was placed about their tent and the
girls found themselves as closely watched as if they were indeed
prisoners. In the afternoon as they sat disconsolately together a
confusion without told that something unusual was going on. Jeanne went to
the aperture in the front of the tent and looked out.

"What is it?" she asked of the sentry.

"Our men coming back," was the answer. "They have a number of prisoners
and have captured some fine horses."

Jeanne reported the news to Bob, but she received it apathetically. So
overcome by grief was she that she appeared to no longer care for anything.

"Bob," said Jeanne suddenly, "can't we do something to help your brother?"

"I am afraid not," answered Bob in heartbroken accents. "What can we do?
We are only girls. What can we do?"

"Well, w