fighting so desperately yonder, would fall back in reserve.  Could Chambers hold them?  Could he check that victorious onrush of blue—­those men who had fought their way five bloody miles since daybreak?  I could not tell; it would be a death grapple worthy of the gods, and the Hardy house would be in the very vortex.  Whether it was destined also to become a charnel house, a shambles, depended on the early coming of those other, unseen men toiling up that black ravine.

Then suddenly there recurred to my memory that Major Hardy and his daughter still remained within.  They had not departed with the others, yet in the stress and excitement their presence had slipped my mind.  Nor had I seen them since the new recruits came.  What could be done with them now, at this late hour, the house already a fortress, the enemy in evidence everywhere?  In some manner they must be gotten away at once, safely placed within the protection of friends.  Not only my friendship for the father, and my love for the girl, demanded this, but the fact that they were non-combatants made it imperative.  There was no time to consider methods—­already we were within range of the guns, and at any moment might be directly under fire, obliged to resist assault.  I was up the stairs even as the thought occurred, and confronted Hardy in the upper hall.  Conroy had him by the arm, suspicious of the uniform.

“That’s all right, Corporal,” I said quickly.  “I had forgotten the major was here.  Hardy, you must get out of the house—­you, and Miss Billie at once.”

His eyes glanced back toward the door of her room which stood open.

“I—­I have no knowledge of where my daughter may be,” he acknowledged soberly.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF BILLIE

I stared at him in surprise, and then sprang forward, and glanced into her room.  It was empty, except for a trooper kneeling at the window.  I faced Hardy again with a question: 

“Not here!  Where has she gone?”

He shook his head, without attempting to speak.

“You don’t know?  Conroy, have you seen anything of a young lady since you came up here?”

“No, sir; all these doors was standin’ wide open, and this Johnny Reb was prowlin’ ’round in here.  I didn’t know what his business might be so I collared him.  Ain’t that right, Murphy?” appealing to the soldier at the window, who had faced about at sound of our voices.

“Straight as far as it goes,” was the reply, “but maybe that guard back in the ell saw the lady afore we come up.”

“What guard?”

“One o’ your fellows,” said the corporal.  “Anyhow he had his buttons cut off.  I guess he’s there yet.”

I was out into the hall as quickly as I could turn, Conroy and the major following closely.  A dozen steps took us beyond the chimney jog, and to the top of the back stairs.  There was no one there.  The side doors stood open, and the narrow hallway was vacant.  My eyes met the corporal’s.