ain, they were
well-nigh helpless. Already they had barely enough men to guard their
prisoners. Of the Marcums, Steve alone was able to handle a Winchester,
and outside the sounds of the carousal were in the air and growing
louder. In a little while, if the Lewallens but knew it, escape would be
easy and the Stetsons could be driven from the town.

"Oh, they know it," said Steve. "They'll be a-whoopin' down out O' them
woods purty soon, 'n' we re goin to ketch hell. I'd like to know mighty
well who that spy was last night. That cussed Bud Vickers says it was a
ha'nt, on a white hoss, with long hair flyin' in the wind, 'n' that he
shot plumb through it. I jus' wish I'd a had a chance at it."

Still, noon came again without trouble, and the imprisoned Lewallens
had been twenty-four hours without food. Their ammunition was getting
scarce. The firing was less frequent, though the watch was as close as
ever, and twice a Winchester had sounded a signal of distress. All knew
that a response must come soon; and come it did. A picket, watching the
river road, saw young Jasper's horse coming along the dark bushes far up
the river, and brought the news to the group standing behind old Sam's
cabin. The gray galloped into sight, and, skirting the woods, came
straight for the town-with a woman on his back. The stirrup of a man's
saddle dangled on one side, and the woman's bonnet had fallen from her
head. Some one challenged her.

"Stop, I tell ye! Don't ye go near that courthouse! Stop, I tell ye! I'll
shoot! Stop!"

Rome ran from the cabin with a revolver in each hand. A drunken
mountaineer was raising a Winchester to his shoulder, and, springing
from the back of the gray at the court-house steps, was Martha Lewallen.

"I'll kill the fust man that lifts his finger to hurt the gal," Rome
said, knocking the drunken man's gun in the air. "We hain't fightin'
women!"

It was too late to oppose her, and the crowd stood helplessly watching.
No one dared approach, so, shielding with her body the space of the
opening door, she threw the sack of food within. Then she stood a moment
talking and, turning, climbed to her saddle. The gray was spotted with
foam, and showed the red of his nostrils with every breath as, with face
flushed and eyes straight before her, she rode slowly toward the crowd.
What was she about? Rome stood rigid, his forgotten pistols hanging at
each side; the mouth of the drunken mountaineer was open with stupid
wond