“It was too dark to see my uniform.”

“I could tell by the way you rode.”

“Is it as bad as that?”

“No—­but it’s different.”

The girl laid her hand on Aladdin’s forehead.

“You’ve got fever,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Aladdin, politely.

“Does your leg hurt awfully?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Did any one ever tell you that you were very civil for a Yankee?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Aladdin.

She looked at him shrewdly, and saw that the light of reason had gone out of his eyes.  She wetted her handkerchief with the cold, filthy water spread over the cellar floor and laid it on his forehead.  Aladdin spoke ramblingly or kept silence.  Every now and then the girl freshened the handkerchief, and presently Aladdin fell into a troubled sleep.

When he awoke his mind was quite clear.  The lantern still burned, but faintly, for the air in the cellar was becoming heavy.  Beside him on the straw the girl lay sleeping.  And overhead footsteps sounded on the stable floor.  He remembered what the girl had said about the people who would kill him if they found him, and blew out the lantern.  Then, his hand over her mouth, he waked the girl.

“Don’t make a noise,” he said.  “Listen.”

The girl sat up on the straw.

“I’ll call,” she whispered presently, “and pretend you’re not here.”

“But the horse?”

“I’ll lie about him.”

She raised her voice.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“It’s I—­Calvert.  Where are you?”

“Listen,” she answered; “I’ve fallen through the floor into the cellar.  Don’t you see where it’s broken?”

The footsteps approached.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No; but don’t come too close, don’t try to look down; the floor’s frightfully rickety.  Isn’t there a ladder there somewhere?”

A man laughed.

“Wait,” he said.  They heard his footsteps and laughter receding.  Presently the bottom of a ladder appeared through the hole in the floor.

“Look out for your head,” said the man.

The girl rose and guided the ladder clear of Aladdin’s head.

“What have you done with the Yankee’s horse?” she called.

“He’s here.”

“Where’s the Yankee, do you suppose?”

“We think he must have run off into the woods.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The girl began to mount the ladder.

“I’m coming up,” she said.

She disappeared, and the ladder was withdrawn.

She came back after a long time, and there were men with her.

“It’s all right, Yankee,” she called down the hole.  “They’re your own men, and I’m the prisoner now.”

The ladder reappeared, and two friendly men in blue came down into the cellar.

“Good God!” they said.  “It’s Aladdin O’Brien!”