"Hunting for you, and crying his eyes out," I answered, smiling to
myself in the darkness. "Where is Mrs. Brennan?"

"Jist beyond me, thar in ther corner."

As she spoke a bullet whizzed past us, having missed the obstruction of
the piano. I could feel the wind stirred by its passage, while its
peculiar hum told me it was a Minié ball.

"You are too far out from the wall," I protested. "You are in range."

"Can't help it if I be. I 'm yere ter take ther guns from ther sojer,
an' pass 'em back."

I crept slowly along beyond her, keeping close to the wall, but had
progressed hardly more than a couple of yards, when I felt a hand
lightly touch me.

"I recognize your voice," said a soft whisper, "and am so glad you are
here."

Who can guess the motives that inspire a woman? This was my welcome,
where I had anticipated coldness and repellant pride.




CHAPTER XXXI