n me and the closed
door, the expression upon her face sufficient evidence of her
determination. Hers was no idle threat--this daughter of a soldier was
ready for the struggle and the sacrifice. I recognized all this at a
glance, bewildered by the swift change in attitude, unable to decide my
own course of action. Argument was useless, a resort to force repugnant.
Above all else the one overpowering feeling was admiration for the girl.
She must have read all this in my eyes, yet her own never wavered, nor
changed expression.

"Please do not make the mistake, Lieutenant Galesworth, of thinking me
not sufficiently in earnest," she said firmly, "or that I am
unprepared."

"I do not; if you were only a man I should know exactly what to do."

"Your courtesy is misplaced; at least I do not ask it. This is war, and
you are upon one side, I on the other. You will remain in this room
until I say you may go."

"What will hold me?--your eyes?--the mere threat of your lips?"

"Something rather more to the purpose than either," she answered coldly.
Her right hand, concealed by the folds of her skirt, was uplifted, the
fingers grasping the black butt of a Colt. Her lips smiled. "I suppose
you know the efficacy of this weapon, Lieutenant, and that it
is loaded."

My hand dropped instinctively to my belt--the revolver holster was
empty! It was my own weapon the girl held.

CHAPTER VIII

THE COMING OF THE ENEMY

No matter how charming she may be, a man can never enjoy being outplayed
at his own game by a woman. The piquant face fronting me swam in a mist
as a sudden rush of anger swept from me all admiration. I had been
played with, outwitted from the start, every movement checkmated--even
now she was actually laughing at my helplessness. My first wild impulse
was to spring forward, and wrest the revolver from her hand; yet there
was that in her attitude, in the expression of her eyes, which made me
hesitate. Would she shoot? Would the sense of duty to her cause actually
induce her to fire at me? A moment before, I should not have deemed it
possible, but now, it seemed to me, she was desperate enough to do even
this. And that was a hair-trigger she fingered so recklessly! Instead of
leaping forward, I stood motionless, outwardly cool, yet with every
nerve throbbing. She read all this in my face, no doubt, for her lips
half smiled, her manner exhibited confidence.

"Oh, I can shoot," she said pleasantly enough, "so I wou