any one would either see or hear them. As Dick gazed intently, the face
and figure of his antagonist shaped themselves more distinctly in the dim
light. He beheld before him a tall youth, extremely well built, fair of
face, his brown hair slightly long. He wore rain-soaked civilian's garb.

He saw that the youth was panting like himself, but it was not wholly the
result of flight. His face expressed savage anger and indignation.

"You dirty Yankee!" he said.

Dick started. No one had ever before addressed him with such venom.

"If by Yankee you mean loyalty to the Union then I'm one," he said,
"and I'm proud of it. What's more I'm willing to tell who I am. My
name is Richard Mason. I'm from Kentucky, and I'm a lieutenant in the
regiment of Colonel Arthur Winchester, which occupies the building behind
us."

"From Kentucky and consorting with Yankees! A lot of you are doing it,
and you ought to be on our side! We hate you for it more than we do the
real Yankees!"

"It's our right to choose, and we've chosen. And now, since you're
talking so much about right and wrong, who may you be, Mr. Firebug?"

Even in the dark Dick saw his opponent's face flush, and his eyes flash
with deadly hostility.

"My name is Victor Woodville," he replied, "and my father is Colonel John
Woodville, C.S.A. He is the owner of the house in which your infamous