was a silence; the loosened belt fell to the grass, the sabre
clashing. He looked coolly at the troopers, at her, and then out across
the smoke.

"_This_ way?" he said, as though to himself. "I never thought it." His
voice was quiet and pleasant, with a slight touch of curiosity in it.

"How did you know?" he asked simply, turning to her again.

She stood leaning back against a tree, trying to keep her eyes fixed on
him through the swimming weakness invading mind and body.

"I suppose this ends it all," he added absently; and touched the sabre
lying in the grass with the tip of his spurred boot.

"Did you look for any other ending, Mr. Moray?"

"Yes--I did."

"How could you, coming into our ranks with a dead man's commission and
forged papers? How long did you think it could last? Were you mad?"

He looked at her wistfully, smiled, and shook his head.

"Not mad, unless you are. Your risks are greater than were mine."

She straightened up, stepped toward him, very pale.

"Will you come?" she asked. "I am sorry."

"I am sorry--for us both," he said gently. "Yes, I will come. Send those
troopers away."

"I cannot."

"Yes, you can. I give my word of honor."

She hesitated; a bright flush stained his face.

"I take your word," she murmured.

A moment later the troopers mounted and cantered off down the hill,
veering wide to skirt the head of a column of infantry marching in; and
when the Special Messenger started to return she found masses of men
threatening to separate her from her prisoner--sunburnt, sweating,
dirty-faced men, clutching their rifle-butts with red hands.

Their officers rode ahead, thrashing through the moist grass; a forest
of bayonets swayed in the sun; flag after flag passed, slanting above
the masses of blue.

She and her prisoner looked on; the flag of the 63d New York swept by;
the flags of the 69th and 88th followed. A moment later the columns
halted.

"Your Excelsiors," said Moray calmly.

"They're under fire already. Shall we move on?"

A soldier in the ranks, standing with ordered arms, fell straight
backward, heavily; a corporal near them doubled up with a grunt.

The Special Messenger heard bullets smacking on rocks; heard their dull
impact as they struck living bodies; saw them knock men flat. Meanwhile
the flags drooped above the halted ranks, their folds stirred lazily,
fell, and scarcely moved; the platoon fire rolled on unbroken somewhere
out in the smoke yonde