e horse even before she recognized the rider, and her cheeks flushed,
her lips were set, and her nostrils began to dilate. The horseman
reined in and took off his cap.

"I come under a flag of truce," he said, gravely, "to ask this garrison
to haul down its colors--and--to save useless effusion of blood," he
added, still more gravely.

"Your war on women has begun, then?"

"I am obeying orders--no more, no less."

"I congratulate you on your luck or your good judgment always to be on
hand when disagreeable duties are to be done."

Chad flushed.

"Won't you take the flag down?"

"No, make your attack. You will have one of your usual victories--with
overwhelming numbers--and it will be safe and bloodless. There are only
two negroes defending this garrison. They will not fight, nor will we."

"Won't you take the flag down?"

"No!"

Chad lifted his cap and wheeled. The Colonel was watching at the gate.

"Well, sir" he asked, frowning.

"I shall need help, sir, to take that flag down," said Chad.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"A woman is defending it."

"What!" shouted the Colonel.

"That is my sister, Colonel," said Harry Dean. The Colonel smiled and
then grew grave.

"You should warn her not to provoke the authorities. The Government is
advising very strict measures now with rebel sympathizers." Then he
smiled again.

"Fours! Left wheel! Halt! Present--sabres!"

A line of sabres flashed in the sun, and Margaret, not understanding,
snatched the flag from the fence and waved it back in answer. The
Colonel laughed aloud. The column moved on, and each captain,
following, caught the humor of the situation and each company flashed
its sabres as it went by, while Margaret stood motionless.

In the rear rode those two unarmed prisoners. She could see now that
their uniforms were gray and she knew that they were prisoners, but she
little dreamed that they were her brother Dan and Rebel Jerry Dillon,
nor did Chad Buford or Harry Dean dream of the purpose for which, just
at that time, they were being brought back to Lexington. Perhaps one
man who saw them did know: for Jerome Conners, from the woods opposite,
watched the prisoners ride by with a malicious smile that nothing but
impending danger to an enemy could ever bring to his face; and with the
same smile he watched Margaret go slowly back to the house, while her
flag still fluttered from the stile.

The high tide of Confederate hopes was fast receding no