“You—­you—­you!” said a voice that shook with mingled terror and contempt, and Margaret shrank back, step by step.  Hearing her, Mrs. Dean hurried into the hallway.  Her face paled when she saw the Federal uniform in her doorway, but her chin rose haughtily, and her voice was steady and most courteous: 

“What can we do for you?” she asked, and she, too, recognized Chad, and her face grew stern as she waited for him to answer.

“Mrs. Dean,” he said, half choking, “word has come to head-quarters that two Confederate soldiers are spending the night here, and I have been ordered to search the house for them.  My men have surrounded it, but if you will give me your word that they are not here, not a man shall cross your threshold—­not even myself.”

Without a word Mrs. Dean stood aside.

“I am sorry,” said Chad, motioning to the Sergeant to follow him.  As he passed the door of the drawing-room, he saw, under the lamp, a pipe with ashes strewn about its bowl.  Chad pointed to it.

“Spare me, Mrs. Dean.”  But the two women stood with clinched hands, silent.  Dan had flashed into the kitchen, and was about to leap from the window when he saw the gleam of a rifle-barrel, not ten feet away.  He would be potted like a rat if he sprang out there, and he dashed noiselessly up the back stairs, as Chad started up the front stairway toward the garret, where he had passed many a happy hour playing with Margaret and Harry and the boy whom he was after as an enemy, now.  The door was open at the first landing, and the creak of the stairs under Dan’s feet, heard plainly, stopped.  The Sergeant, pistol in hand, started to push past his superior.

“Keep back,” said Chad, sternly, and as he drew his pistol, a terrified whisper rose from below.

“Don’t, don’t!” And then Dan, with hands up, stepped into sight.

“I’ll spare you,” he said, quietly.  “Not a word, mother.  They’ve got me.  You can tell him there is no one else in the house, though.”

Mrs. Dean’s eyes filled with tears, and a sob broke from Margaret.

“There is no one else,” she said, and Chad bowed.  “In the house,” she added, proudly, scorning the subterfuge.

“Search the barn,” said Chad, “quick!” The Sergeant ran down the steps.

“I reckon you are a little too late, my friend,” said Dan.  “Why, bless me, it’s my old friend Chad—­and a lieutenant!  I congratulate you,” he added, but he did not offer to shake hands.

Chad had thought of the barn too late.  Snowball had seen the men creeping through the yard, had warned Jerry Dillon, and Jerry had slipped the horses into the woodland, and had crept back to learn what was going on.

“I will wait for you out here,” said Chad.  “Take your time.”

“Thank you,” said Dan.

He came out in a moment and Mrs. Dean and Margaret followed him.  At a gesture from the Sergeant, a soldier stationed himself on each side of Dan, and, as Chad turned, he took off his cap again.  His face was very pale and his voice almost broke: