number had become their natural leader, and he was in communication with guerilla officers and other more regular authorities.  They had deemed it best to let events take their course for a time.  Lee’s northward advance absorbed general attention, although little as yet was known about it on that remote plantation.  The Union men were being healed and fed at no cost to the Confederates, and could be taken away at the time when their removal could be accomplished with the least trouble.

Lane himself was the chief cause of delay.  He was doing well, but his wound was of a peculiar nature, and any great exertion or exposure might yet cause fatal results.  This fact had become known to the rebel sergeant, and since the captain was the principal prize, and they were all very comfortable, he had advised delay.  It had been thought best not to inform the family as to the state of affairs, lest it should in some way become known to Lane and the surgeon, and lead to attempted escape.  The Barkdales, moreover, were high-strung people, and might entertain some chivalric ideas about turning over their guests to captivity.

“They might have a ridiculous woman’s notion about the matter,” said one of these secret advisers.

Lane and McAllister, however, were becoming exceedingly solicitous concerning the future.  The former did not base much hope on Suwanee’s evident expectation that when he was well enough he would go to his friends as a matter of course.  He knew that he and his men were in the enemy’s hands, and that they would naturally be regarded as captives.  He had a horror of going to a Southern prison and of enduring weeks and perhaps months of useless inactivity.  He and McAllister began to hold whispered consultations.  His mind revolted at the thought of leaving his men, and of departing stealthily from the family that had been so kind.  And yet if they were all taken to Richmond he would be separated from the men, and could do nothing for them.  Matter-of-fact McAllister had no doubts or scruples.

“Of course we should escape at once if your wound justified the attempt”

On the 29th of June Lane and the surgeon walked some little distance from the house, and became satisfied that they were under the surveillance of the rebel sergeant and his men.  This fact so troubled Lane that Suwanee noticed his abstraction and asked him in the evening what was worrying him.  The moonlight fell full on her lovely, sympathetic face.

“Miss Suwanee,” he said, gravely, “I’ve been your guest about a month.  Are you not tired of me yet?”

“That’s a roundabout way of saying you are tired of us.”

“I beg your pardon:  it is not.  But, in all sincerity, I should be getting back to duty, were it possible.”

“Your wound is not sufficiently healed,” she said, earnestly, wondering at the chill of fear that his words had caused.  “The surgeon says it is not.”

“Don’t you know?” he whispered.