, which
were uttered in a muffled voice, came distinctly to their ears:

"Hallo, the house!"

"There they are," whispered Tom, thrusting his hand into his breast
pocket and glancing toward Rodney as if to assure himself that the
latter could be depended on in an emergency.

"Sit down and keep perfectly quiet," said Mrs. Merrick, in a calm tone.
"They are ready to shoot, and you mustn't move about for fear of
throwing your shadow upon one of the window curtains."

[Illustration: MRS. MERRICK STANDS GUARD.]

"Are they looking for your husband?" Rodney managed to ask.

"I suppose they are," answered the woman, who did not even change color.
"I will go to the door and find out."

"You mustn't," protested Rodney. "Mr. Merrick said he didn't take any
notice of hails after dark."

"He doesn't, but I do," replied the wife. "Somebody must answer, or we
couldn't live in this country a day longer."

"Do you recognize the voice?"

"Of course not," said Tom Percival. "They are strangers from some other
county."

"Why can't we go with her and return their fire," exclaimed Rodney, as
Mrs. Merrick left the room and moved along the wide hall toward the
front door. "I'll not stay here like a bump on a log and let her be shot
at, now I--"

"Come back here. Sit down and behave yourself or you'll play smash,"
said Tom, earnestly. "They'll not harm her. It's her husband they are
after. Now listen."

Rodney sat down in the nearest chair, rested the hand that held his
revolver on the table, and waited and listened with as much patience as
he could command.

CHAPTER XI.

RODNEY MAKES A TRADE.

"You are a pretty partisan, you are," whispered Tom Percival, while they
were waiting for Mrs. Merrick to open the front-door. "Those men outside
are friends of yours, and yet you stand ready to fight them."

"I don't claim friendship with any cowardly bushwhacker," answered
Rodney hotly. "I don't collogue [associate] with any such."

"Then you'll have to do one of two things," said Tom. "Go home and stay
there, or else join the Confederate army. Nearly every man in Missouri
is a bushwhacker. Now listen."

Tom did not follow his own suggestion, for when he heard the front door
creak on its hinges, he laid down his revolver and covered his ears with
his hands. This made Rodney turn as white as a sheet and get upon his
feet again, fully expecting to hear the roar of a shotg