force.  Instead of resting, the young man was studying topography and enjoying the chicken which had at last caught up with him.  He knew the importance of his work and did it thoroughly.  Having chosen the road which promised best, he marked it on a map, expecting soon to go over it again as guide.  He sighed deeply as he thought that it would lead away from the girl to whom he had devoted his life, yet not because he owed it to her.  “If we could only remain together,” he thought, “she would learn to give all that I give.  The dear little girl is just learning that she is a woman, and is bewildered.”

Major Jones, who had been skirmishing to delay the Confederate advance, allowed his men and horses to rest when the enemy paused for their mid-day bivouac, and so had come about a cessation of hostilities during which both parties took breath for the coming struggle.

Miss Lou was suddenly awakened by a jar which shook the house, followed by a strange, unearthly sound.  For an instant she was confused, thinking night had come, so dark was her room.  Springing to her window she threw open the blinds.  A black, threatening sky met her gaze, the sunlight hidden by a dense bank of clouds, above which towered golden-tipped thunder-heads.  The appearance of the ridge puzzled her.  The cannon were there, a puff of smoke rolled heavily from one of them; but excepting a few gunners just about the pieces, the long line of men and horses had largely disappeared.  Down the lawn from a point not far from the house to the main street and beyond was a line of horsemen, keeping abreast and equidistant from each other.  What did it all mean?  Facing the ridge on the left of the lawn was an extensive grove, through which the avenue wound in and out, and the line of horsemen was approaching this.  Suddenly the very earth trembled and she saw smoke pouring upward among the trees from a rise of ground within the grove.  All now became clear to her.  While she had slept, the Confederates had come up, taken their position and the battle was beginning.  In strong excitement she rushed down to the hall below, where she found her aunts with pallid, frightened faces.  On the veranda was Mr. Baron, looking white indeed, but with firm, compressed lips and fiery eyes, watching the opening conflict.

“Go in,” he said sternly, “this is no place for you.”

In her intense absorption she did not even hear him.  From the edge of the grove and along the avenue were now seen little puffs of smoke, followed by the sharp crack of carbines.  The long line of Union skirmishers began to reply in like manner, but it was evident that they found themselves too obvious marks in the open.  Here and there men fell from their saddles, and the riderless horses galloped away.  The notes of a bugle were heard above the din, and the Union skirmish line retired rapidly to the foot of the ridge.