s shall be avenged!" she added tragically.

"Did your brother belong to those guerillas?" questioned Artie, a light
breaking in on his mind.

"He was at the head of the command which participated in the unfortunate
engagement at Greeger Lake," responded the woman, tartly. "He would have
won had he not been outnumbered, four to one."

"Was your brother Major Gossley?" continued Artie.

"He was and is. His command is now with General Bragg--and will soon
help to wipe out this horde of villanous mudsills, who have entered our
State," resumed the lady of the house, grandiloquently. "Do you remember
my brother in person?"

"I remember him very well. There was a miller at Greeger Lake named
Price. He had hidden away his money, and your brother made him give it
up by threatening to hang him. The man was dragged to a tree and a rope
placed about his neck. When the Riverlawns captured the command, your
brother was compelled to give Price back his money."

At these plain words, the lady of the house grew furious. "It is a
falsehood--a base, malicious, Yankee falsehood!" she screamed. "Dick,
why don't you bind him and give him--a--a--the lash?"

"I'll bind him fast enough," answered the colonel. "After that, we'll
see what is best to be done. Joe, is there a rope handy?"

"Yes, Mars'r," answered the foremost of the negroes.

"Take it and bind the prisoner's hands behind him. Sam, keep him well
covered, and I will do the same. Between two fires, he will keep quiet
enough, I'll warrant."

Without delay, the negro Joe procured the rope and walked up behind
Artie. Resistance just then would have been foolish, and Artie's weapons
were soon taken from him, after which he was made a close prisoner. The
rope had scarcely been adjusted, when there came a loud knocking on the
front door of the house.

CHAPTER XV

GOSSLEY THE GUERILLA

"Who can that be?" asked the lady of the mansion, nervously, as the
knock was repeated.

"I will go and see," answered Colonel Bradner. He turned to the two
negroes. "See that he doesn't get away from you."

"He shan't git de chance, Mars'r," answered Joe, who had picked up his
gun again.

Arising from his couch, where he had retained his seat while covering
the young captain, the crippled advocate of the Southern cause stumped
to the door, walked out of the room, and closed the barrier behind him.
His wife accompanied him.

Artie strained his ears to catch what might be said. A h