A sharp throb of hope set her pulses bounding--she had, safe in her
bosom, the means of warning her own people now; all she needed was a
safe-conduct from that knoll, and here it was coming, brought by this
eager, boyish officer, hastening so blithely toward her, his long, dark
shadow clinging like death to his spurred heels as he ran.

Would she guide him to some spot where it was possible to see the whole
length of the pass?

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and turned, he at her side,
into the woods.

If her map was not betraying her once more the path _must_ follow the
edges of the pass, high up among those rocks and trees somewhere. There
was only one way of finding it--to climb upward to the overhanging
ledges.

Raising her eyes toward the leafy heights, it seemed to her incredible
that any path could lead along that wall of rock, which leaned outward
over the ravine.

But somehow she must mount there; somehow she must manage to remain
there unmolested, ready, the moment a single Union vidette cantered
into the pass, to hurl her explosive messenger into the depths below--a
startling but unmistakable signal to the blue column advancing so
unsuspiciously into that defile of hell.

As they climbed upward together through the holly-scrub she remembered
that she must not slip, for the iron weight in her bosom would endure no
rough caress from rock or earth.

How heavy it was--how hot and rough, chafing her body--this little iron
sphere, with a dozen deaths sealed up inside!

Toiling upward, planting her roughly shod feet with fearful precision,
she tried to imagine what it would be like if the tiny bomb in her bosom
exploded--tried to picture her terrified soul tearing skyward out of
bodily annihilation.

"It is curious," she thought with a slight shudder, "how afraid I always
am--how deeply, deeply afraid of death. God knows why I go on."

The boy beside her found the ascent difficult; spur and sabre impeded
him; once he lurched heavily against her, and his quick, stammered
apology was cut short by the dreadful pallor of her face, for she was
deadly afraid of the bomb.

"Did I hurt you?" he faltered, impulsively laying his hand on her arm.

She shivered and shook off his hand, forcing a gay smile. And they went
on together, upward, always upward, her pretty, provocative eyes meeting
his at intervals, her heart beating faster, death at her breast.

He was a few yards ahead when he called back