no one had dreamed of such a sum as was revealed. In her frenzy she
had shrieked that the savings of her lifetime were burning,--that there
was over three thousand dollars in the box; but she hid her treasure and
gasped and stammered and swore she was talking "wild-like." "They was
nothing but twos and wans," she vowed; yet there were women there who
declared that they had seen tens and twenties as she hurried them
through her trembling fingers, and Sudsville gossiped and talked for two
hours after she was led away, still moaning and shivering, to the
bedside of poor Clancy, who was the miserable cause of it all. The
colonel listened to the stories with such patience as could be accorded
to witnesses who desired to give prominence to their personal exploits
in subduing the flames and rescuing life and property. It was not until
he and the group of officers with him had been engaged some moments in
taking testimony that something was elicited which caused a new
sensation.

It was not by the united efforts of Sudsville that Clancy and Kate had
been dragged from the flames, but by the individual dash and
determination of a single man: there was no discrepancy here, for the
ten or a dozen who were wildly rushing about the house made no effort to
burst into it until a young soldier leaped through their midst into the
blazing door-way, was seen to throw a blanket over some object within,
and the next minute appeared again, dragging a body through the flames.
Then they had sprung to his aid, and between them Kate and "the ould
man" were lifted into the open air. A moment later he had handed Mrs.
Clancy her packet of money, and--they hadn't seen him since. He was an
officer, said they,--a new one. They thought it must be the new
lieutenant of Company B; and the colonel looked quickly around and said
a few words to his adjutant, who started up the hill forthwith. A group
of officers and ladies were standing at the brow of the plateau east of
the guard-house, gazing down upon the scene below, and other ladies,
with their escorts, had gathered on a little knoll close by the road
that led to Prairie Avenue. It was past these that the adjutant walked
rapidly away, swinging his hurricane-lamp in his hand.

"Which way now, Billings?" called one of the cavalry officers in the
group.

"Over to Mr. Hayne's quarters," he shouted back, never stopping at all.

A silence fell upon the group at mention of the name. They were the
ladies f