bed.

But sleep was as far from the maiden's eyes as though such a thing had
never been known. Her Fairy Prince had been trapped, gently it was true,
yet trapped, and led off where he would be watched, and not be able to
meet his friends until too late to join in the great battle they felt
was near at hand.

"And he is at the farm of Darius Hinds, six hours from Pamunkey
turnpike," she said, as if repeating a well-learned lesson.

When she laid herself down that night, Sally had felt almost sure that
there was no help for her poor Prince. The times were dangerous. To tell
what she knew might make strife right in their midst. She was afraid for
others, but never for herself.

As the clock on the stairs struck eleven, she heaved a great sigh. "If I
could only help him!" she cried, softly, to herself.

"I _will_ help him!" she cried again, "I will."

Then she paused in self-surprise.

"What is there inside me," she asked, "that leaps up with such strength
whenever I say 'I will?' And what makes me say it? Have I strange, hardy
blood in my veins making me want to fight? I do want to fight! They tell
that boys twelve years of age are shouldering guns and rushing into
battle at Boston. A gun I would shoulder this very night and march forth
to fight those redcoats were I a boy. I am but a maid of fourteen years,
but something I would gladly do for my country, and, alas! for my Fairy
Prince."

She put her red-gold head down on her arms, which were folded across her
knees as she sat up in bed, and for several moments she neither spoke
nor stirred.

All at once, as though some one had touched a match to a pouch of
powder, up she started, her eyes wild with excitement.

"I have it!" she exclaimed, springing softly to the floor, "I have it!
May I but have the luck I crave, and my Dream Prince shall go free!"

What she meant to do her red lips did not utter. But she dressed plainly
and carefully, and from a drawer she took a piece of black lace and
wound it about her head and over her forehead.

Down-stairs she crept, and in the porch put on a long, straight coat
worn by the parson when for exercise he worked in the garden, and on her
head she put an old straw hat with a broad rim, half shading her face.

Then she passed out at a rear door that was not locked, and walked into
the road with a long, careless stride.

The colored boys were often thus seen going from place to place late at
night. And with her goldy hai