rl, as though she had not heard him, "send
someone to help. Bring him to the house," she added, turning. As no
movement was made, she turned again.

"Bring him up to the house," she said, imperiously, and when the
hesitating soldiers stooped to pick up the wounded man, she saw the
streak of blood running down Chad's chin and she stared open-eyed. She
made one step toward him, and then she shrank back out of the light.

"Oh!" she said. "Are you wounded, too? Oh!"

"No!" said Chad, grimly. "Dan didn't do that"--pointing to the
Sergeant--"he did this--with his fist. It's the second time Dan has
done this. Easy, men," he added, with low-voiced authority.

Mrs. Dean was holding the door open.

"No," said Chad, quickly. "That wicker lounge will do. He will be
cooler on the porch." Then he stooped, and loosening the Sergeant's
blouse and shirt examined the wound.

"It's only through the shoulder, Lieutenant," said the man, faintly.
But it was under the shoulder, and Chad turned.

"Jake," he said, sharply, "go back and bring a surgeon--and an officer
to relieve me. I think he can be moved in the morning, Mrs. Dean. With
your permission I will wait here until the Surgeon comes. Please don't
disturb yourself further"--Margaret had appeared at the door, with some
bandages that she and her mother had been making for Confederates and
behind her a servant followed with towels and a pail of water--"I am
sorry to trespass."

"Did the bullet pass through?" asked Mrs. Dean, simply.

"No, Mrs. Dean," said Chad.

Margaret turned indoors. Without another word, her mother knelt above
the wounded man, cut the shirt away, staunched the trickling blood, and
deftly bound the wound with lint and bandages, while Chad stood,
helplessly watching her.

"I am sorry," he said again, when she rose, "sorry--"

"It is nothing," said Mrs. Dean, quietly. "If you need anything, you
will let me know. I shall be waiting inside."

She turned and a few moments later Chad saw Margaret's white figure
swiftly climb the stairs--but the light still burned in the noiseless
room below.

. . . . .

Meanwhile Dan and Jerry Dillon were far across the fields on their way
to rejoin Morgan. When they were ten miles away, Dan, who was leading,
turned.

"Jerry, that Lieutenant was an old friend of mine. General Morgan used
to say he was the best scout in the Union Army. He comes from your part
of the country, and his name is Chad Buford. Ever heard of him