them in the morass which the road had now
become, but deliberately picked their way along the sides of the valley
where the walking was easier. They saw Harry, and understood as soon as
they saw, who he was. Two or three responded to their first impulse, and
raising their guns to their shoulders, fired at him. A bullet slapped
against the rock upon which he was partially leaning, and fell at
his feet. Another spattered mud in his face, and flew away, singing
viciously.

At the reports the fear-harassed mob shuddered and surged forward
through its entire length.

The companions of those who fired seemed to reproach them with angry
gestures, pointing to the effect upon the panicky mass. Then the whole
squad rushed forward toward the hill.

Deadly fear clutched Harry Glen's heart as the angry notes of the
bullets jarred on his senses. Then pride and the animal instinct
of fighting for life flamed upward. So swiftly that he was scarcely
conscious of what he was doing he snatched a cartridge from the box,
tore its end between his teeth, and rammed it home. He replaced the
ramrod in its thimbles with one quick thrust, and as he raised his eyes
from the nipple upon which he had placed the cap, he saw that the Rebel
squad had gained the foot of the knoll and started up its side. He
raised teh gun to fire, but as he did so he heard a voice call out from
behind him:

"Skeet outen thar! Skeet outen thar! Come up heah, quick!"

Harry looked in the direction of the voice. He saw a tall, slender,
black-haired man standing in the woods at the upper edge of the cleared
space. He was dressed in butternut jeans, and looked so much like the
Rebels in front that Harry thought he was one of them. The stranger
noticed his indecision, and called out again still more peremptorily:

"Skeet outen thar, I tell ye! Skeet outen thar! Come up heah. I'm a
friend--I'm Union."

His rifle came to his face at the same instant, and Harry saw the flame
and white smoke puff from it, and the sickening thought flashed into his
mind that the shot was fired at him, and that he would feel the deadly
ball pierce his body! Before he could more than formulate this he heard
the bullet pass him with a screech, and strike somewhere with a plainly
sharp slap. Turning his head he saw the leading Rebel stagger and fall.
Harry threw his gun up, with the readiness acquired in old hunting days,
and fired at the next of his foes, who also fell! The other Rebels, as