Cries of masculine anger and feminine affright filled the hall, but one
ringing order for silence hushed all, and the dance stood still with Ned
Ferry in its centre. In his right hand, shoulder high, he held not his
sword, but Charlotte's fingers lightly poised for the turn in the
arrested dance. "Stand, gentlemen, every man is covered by two; look at
the doors; look at the windows." The staff captain daringly sprang for
the front door, but Ferry's quick boot caught his instep and he struck
the floor full length. Like lightning Ferry's sword was out, but he only
gave it a deferential sweep. "Sir! better luck next time!--Lieutenant
Quinn, put the Captain in your front rank."
Quinn hustled the captives "down a lane," as the fiddler might have
said, of Ferry's scouts, mounted them on their own horses at the door,
and hurried them away. Charlotte had vanished but was back again in hat
and riding-skirt. Ferry caught her hand and they ran to the front
veranda steps just as the prisoners and guard rode swiftly from them.
Kendall and I had the stirrup ready for her; the saddle was a man's, but
she made a horn of its pommel, and in a flash the four of us were
mounted. Nevertheless before we could move the grove resounded with
shots, and Ferry, bidding us ride on after the fleeing guard, wheeled
and galloped to where half our troop were holding back their assailants
in the dark. But then, to our distraction, Charlotte would not fly.
"Richard, I'm paroled!"--"Charlotte Oliver, you're my prisoner!" I
reached for her bridle, but she avoided me and with a cry of
recollection wheeled and was on her way back. "I forgot something! I can
get it, I left the room lighted!"
I remember vividly yet the high purpose and girlish propitiation that
rang together in her voice. Kendall dashed after her while I went
against a wet bough that all but threw me; but before he could reach her
she flew up the steps, crying "Hold my horse!"
"Mine, too!" I cried, springing up after her. How queerly the inner
house stood alight and silent, its guests and inmates hidden, while
outside pistols and carbines flashed and cracked. I came upon Charlotte,
just recrossing her chamber to leave it, with her doll in her arms.
"Come!" I cried, "our line is falling back behind the house!" Her head
flinched aside, a bit of her hat flew from it, and a pistol-ball buried
itself in the ceiling straight over my head. We ran downstairs together,
pulling, pushing and imploring each other in the name of honor, duty and
heaven to let him--let her--go out first through the bright hall door.
Kendall was not in sight, but in a dim half-light a few yards off we saw
Oliver. He was afoot, bending low, and gliding toward us with his
revolver in his left hand. He fired as I did; her clutch spoiled my aim;
with eager eyes she straightened to her finest height, cried "Richard!
tell Lieutenant Ferry he--" and with a long sigh sank into my arms. A
rush of hoofs sounded behind Oliver, he glanced up, and Ferry's blade
fell across his brow and launched him face upward to the ground. I saw
a bunch of horses, with mine, at the foot of the steps, and a bunch of
men at the top; Ferry snatched Charlotte's limp form from me and said
over his shoulder as he went down the steps, "Go get him and bring him
along, dead or alive!"
I called a man to my aid and was unlucky in not getting the cool-headed
Kendall, for my own wits were gone. The next moment all had left us and
I was down on the ground toiling frantically, with no help but one hand
of my mounted companion, to heave the stalwart frame of Oliver up to
my saddle.
"Why, he's dead!" cried the lad, letting him slide half-way down when we
had all but got him up; "don't you see he's dead? His head's laid wide
open! He's as dead as a mackerel! I'll _swear_ we ain't got any right to
get captured trying to save a dead Yankee."
I was in despair; our horses had caught our frenzy and were plunging to
be after their fellows, and a fresh body of the enemy were hurtling into
the grove. Dropping my burden I vaulted up, and we scurried away, saved
only by the enemy's healthy fear of an ambush. The first man we came up
with was Quinn, with the rear-guard. "Is he dead?" he growled.
"Dead as Adam!" said I, and my comrade put in "Head laid wide open!"
"Drop back into the ranks," said Quinn to him. "Smith, ride on to
Lieutenant Ferry. Corporal,"--to a man near him--"you know the way so
well, go with him."
The two of us sprang forward. How long or what way we went I have now
no clear idea, but at length we neared again the grapevine ferry. The
stream was swollen, we swam our horses, and on the farther side we found
Kendall waiting. To the corporal's inquiry he replied that Ferry had
just passed on. "You know Roy's; two miles off the Plank Road by the
first right? He expects to stop there."
"Is she alive, Kendall?" I interrupted. "Is she alive?"
"No," said he, to some further question of the corporal; "I'm to wait
here for the command."
"Is she alive, Kendall?" I asked again.
"Hello, Smith." He scanned my dripping horse. "Your saddle's slipped,
Smith. Yes, she's alive."