ver the tragic hours when she had fought the battle for his life and
won at last at the risk of her own.

A soldier saluted and handed her a piece of brown wrapping paper, neatly
folded. Its corner was turned down in the old-fashioned way of a
schoolboy's note to his sweetheart.

She went to the light and saw with a start it was in Ned Vaughan's
handwriting. She read, with eager, sparkling eyes.

"DEAREST: I've just seen in a Washington paper which our boys
traded for that you are here. I must see you, and to-night. I can't
wait. There will be no danger to either of us. Our pickets are on
friendly terms. I've arranged everything with some good tobacco
for your fellows. Follow the man who hands you this note to the
river. A boat will be ready for you there with one of my men to row
you across. I will be waiting for you at the old mill beside the
burned pier of the railroad bridge.

"NED."

Betty's heart gave a bound of joy, and in half an hour she was standing
on the shining shore of the river before the old mill. Its great wheel
was slowly turning, the water falling in broken crystals sparkling in
the moonlight. Through the windows of the brick walls peered the
black-mouthed guns trained across the water.

She looked about timidly for a moment while the man in grey who had
rowed her over made fast his boat.

He tipped his old slouch hat:

"This way, Miss."

He led her down close, to the big wheel, crossed the stream of water
which poured from its moss-covered buckets, and there, beneath an apple
tree in bloom, stood a straight, soldierly figure in the full blue
uniform of a Federal Captain, exactly as she had seen Ned Vaughan that
night in the Old Capitol Prison.

The soldier saluted and Ned said:

"Wait, Sergeant, at the water's edge with your boat."

He was gone and Ned grasped both Betty's hands and kissed them tenderly:

"My glorious little heroine! I just had to tell you again that the life
you saved is all, all yours. You are glad to see me--aren't you?"

"I can't tell you how glad, Boy! How brown and well you look!"

"Yes, the hard life somehow agrees with me. It's a queer thing, this
army business. It makes some men strong and clean, and others into
beasts."

"And why did you wear that dangerous uniform, sir?" she asked, with a
smile.

"In honor of a beautiful Yankee girl, my guest. I've not worn it since
that night, Betty, un