“And who is this gentleman?” said Miss Euphemia, as Oliver kissed her cheek and stepped back.

“’Tis more than I can answer,” said Oliver, “for not one word concerning himself can I obtain from him.  He is my prisoner, Aunt Euphemia; I found him lurking in the woods ten miles away this morning, and should perhaps have let him pass had not a low-lying branch of a tree knocked off his hat, when I recognized him for one of Tryon’s crew.”

“Speak more respectfully, sir,” said the stranger suddenly, “to me, if not to those whom you term ‘Tryon’s crew.’”

“I grant the respect due your arm and strength,” said Oliver, “for you came near leaving me in the smoke and din of Fairfield when you gave me this blow,” and he touched the left side of his head, where could be seen some clotted blood among his hair.  “Come, sir, my aunt has asked the question.  Do you not reply to a lady?”

“The gibe is unworthy of you,” said the other, lifting the hat which had been drawn down closely over his brow; “and I”—­

“Oh, Oliver, ’tis my good kind gentleman!” cried Moppet, darting forward and seizing the stranger by the hand; “he plunged into Great Pond last night and pulled me forth when I was nearly drowning, and we begged him to come home with us, did we not, Betty?”—­seeing her sister standing in the doorway.  “Betty, Betty, come and tell Oliver he has made a mistake.”

A smile lit up the stranger’s handsome face as he bowed low to Betty, who came swiftly to his side as she recognized him.

“Will you not bring the gentleman in, Oliver?” she said.  “The thanks which are his due can hardly be well spoken on our doorstep,” and Betty drew herself up, and waved her hand like the proud little maid she was, her eyes sparkling, her breast heaving with the excitement she strove to suppress.

Oliver looked from Moppet to Betty, in bewilderment then back at his prisoner, who seemed the most unconcerned of the group.

“You are right, Betty,” said Miss Euphemia, beginning to understand the situation.  “Will you walk in, sir, and let me explain to my nephew how greatly we are indebted to you?” And she led the way into the mansion, the others following, and opened the door of the parlor on the left, Reuben, obedient to a sign from Oliver, remaining with Miss Bidwell in the hall.

The stranger declined the chair which Oliver courteously offered him, and remained standing near Betty, Moppet clinging to his hand and looking up gratefully into his face while Miss Euphemia related to her nephew the story of Moppet’s rescue from her perilous accident of the previous day.

“A brave deed!” cried Oliver impetuously, as he advanced with outstretched hand toward his prisoner, “and with all my heart, sir, I thank you.  Forgive my pettish speech of a moment since; you were right to reprove me.  No one appreciates a gallant foe more than I; and though the fortune of war has to-day made you my prisoner, to-morrow may make me yours.”