he ladder, and I after him. It
was pitch-dark in the cellar--a deep, dank place with a rank odor
of rotting potatoes. We groped our way to a corner, and stood
listening. We heard the tramp of horses in the dooryard and the
clinic of spurs on the stone step.

"Ah, my good woman," said a man with a marked English accent, "have
you seen any Yankees? Woods are full of them around here. No?
Well, by Jove! you're a good-looking woman. Will you give me a
kiss?" He crossed the floor above us, and she was backing away.

"Come, come, don't be so shy, my pretty woman," said he, and then
we could hear her struggling up and down the floor. I was climbing
the ladder, in the midst of it, my face burning with anger, and
D'ri was at my heels. As the door opened, I saw she had fallen.
The trooper was bending to kiss her. I had him by the collar and
had hauled him down before he discovered us. In a twinkling D'ri
had stripped him of sword and pistol. But it was one of the most
hopeless situations in all my life. Many muzzles were pointing at
us through the door and window. Another hostile move from either
would have ended our history then and there. I let go and stood
back. The man got to his feet--a handsome soldier in the full
uniform of a British captain.

"Ah, there's a fine pair!" he said coolly, whipping a leg of his
trousers with his glove. "I 'll teach you better manners, my young
fellow. Some o' those shipwrecked Yankees," he added, turning to
his men. "If they move without an order, pin 'em up to the wall."

He picked up his hat leisurely, stepping in front of D'ri.

"Now, my obliging friend," said he, holding out his hand, "I'll
trouble you for my sword and pistol."

D'ri glanced over at me, an ugly look in his eye. He would have
fought to his death then and there if I had given him the word. He
was game to the core when once his blood was up, the same old D'ri.

[Illustration: "He would have fought to his death then and there if
I had given him the word."]

"Don't fight," I said.

He had cocked the pistol, and stood braced, the sword in his right
hand. I noticed a little quiver in the great sinews of his wrist.
I expected to see that point of steel shoot, with a quick stab,
into the scarlet blouse before me.

"Shoot 'n' be damned!" said D'ri. "'Fore I die ye'll hev a hole er
tew 'n thet air karkiss o' yourn. Sha'n't give up no weepon till
ye've gin me yer word ye 'll let thet air woman alone