night, on the seas,
Her bright smile haunts me still!

Dropping their various occupations the guerillas drew in about the camp
fire as the familiar words of the famous rebel song reached them. Few
joined in the chorus; they were busy thinking of their sweethearts and
wives far away. Tucker glanced appealingly at Nancy as he began the
next verse, but her face was averted.

I have sailed 'neath alien skies,
I have trod the desert path,
I have seen the storm arise
Like a giant in his wrath;
Every danger I have known,
That a reckless life can fill;
Yet her presence has not flown,
Her bright smile haunts me still!

A round of applause rang out as Tucker's rich tenor voice ceased.

"Be quiet, you fellows," he directed. "Now, Miss Newton, I hold you to
your promise."

Nancy looked about her. The fire had not been replenished, and the
darkness was creeping in. It was difficult to clearly distinguish each
man's face by the flickering light from the hot embers, but Goddard's
expression caught her attention. Her woman's intuition read, and read
aright, what he but dimly realized.

A burning blush dyed Nancy's pale cheeks, and for a moment her heart
beat more rapidly; then sank. She was a rebel--a spy; he a--ah, not
hated--Yankee--a gallant, _honorable_ foe. She must not encourage
him. That should not be charged against her when the reckoning came.
The old words, "he who breaks--pays," recurred to her. Let hers be the
pain, not his. She forgot "My Old Kentucky Home," instead came the
words:

Take back the heart that thou gavest,
What is my anguish to thee?
Take back the freedom thou cravest,
Leaving the fetters to me.
Take back the vows thou hast spoken,
Fling them aside and be free.

Her eyes caught and held Goddard's. Would he understand?

Smile o'er each pitiful token,
Leaving the sorrow for me;
Drink deep of life's fond illusion,
Gaze on the storm-cloud and flee
Swiftly, through strife and confusion,
Leaving the burden to me.

Not a man stirred as her glorious voice died away. Goddard's eyes fell,
and he prodded the ground viciously with nervous fingers. His mouth was
set in stubborn lines. No one spoke. Goddard roused himself. One quick
compelling look at Nancy and his fine baritone voice took up the song
she had left unfinished:

Then when at last, overtaken,
Time flings its fetters o'er t