d were
standing upon the veranda; another had halted in the path. Then one
quickly re-entered the house, reappeared with his cap and sword in his
hand, and ran lightly toward the guard-house. A slight crackling noise
seemed to come from beyond the garden wall.

"What's up?" said Hooker, with staring eyes.

"Picket firing!"

The crackling suddenly became a long rattle. Brant re-entered the room,
and picked up his hat.

"You'll excuse me for a few moments."

A faint sound, soft yet full, and not unlike a bursting bubble, made the
house appear to leap elastically, like the rebound of a rubber ball.

"What's that?" gasped Hooker.

"Cannon, out of range!"

CHAPTER V.

In another instant bugles were ringing through the camp, with the
hurrying hoofs of mounted officers and the trampling of forming men. The
house itself was almost deserted. Although the single cannon-shot had
been enough to show that it was no mere skirmishing of pickets, Brant
still did not believe in any serious attack of the enemy. His position,
as in the previous engagement, had no strategic importance to them; they
were no doubt only making a feint against it to conceal some advance
upon the centre of the army two miles away. Satisfied that he was in
easy supporting distance of his division commander, he extended his line
along the ridge, ready to fall back in that direction, while retarding
their advance and masking the position of his own chief. He gave a few
orders necessary to the probable abandonment of the house, and then
returned to it. Shot and shell were already dropping in the field below.
A thin ridge of blue haze showed the line of skirmish fire. A small
conical, white cloud, like a bursting cotton-pod, revealed an open
battery in the willow-fringed meadow. Yet the pastoral peacefulness
of the house was unchanged. The afternoon sun lay softly on its deep
verandas; the pot pourri incense of fallen rose-leaves haunted it still.

He entered his room through the French window on the veranda, when the
door leading from the passage was suddenly flung open, and Miss Faulkner
swept quickly inside, closed the door behind her, and leaned back
against it, panting and breathless.

Clarence was startled, and for a moment ashamed. He had suddenly
realized that in the excitement he had entirely forgotten her and
the dangers to which she might be exposed. She had probably heard the
firing, her womanly fears had been awakened; she had co