tion of the Ruthven plantations.

"They are moving toward St. John's place," remarked Jack, some time
later, to Darcy. "We ought to go over to see that no damage is done
there."

"St. John ought to take care of the place himself," grumbled Darcy. "He
won't join the army or the Home Guard. What does he expect?"

Several sided with Darcy, but Jack shook his head. "I am going over. I
would like eight or ten to go with me. The others had better remain
around town." And so it was arranged.

The coming of the Federalists to the plantation owned by Mrs. Mary
Ruthven filled St. John with supreme terror. Hearing the firing, the
young man got up and dressed himself. He was just finishing when his
mother appeared.

"St. John, Pompey says the Yankees are coming!" said the mother. "You
must arm yourself and try to defend our home."

"The Yan--Yankees!" he said, with chattering teeth. "How--how near are
they?"

"They have passed through the town and are all over the mountain side.
Come, do not delay. I have given Pompey a gun and old Louis a pistol.
Arm yourself and take charge of them. If we do not protect ourselves, we
may all be killed."

Shaking so that he could scarcely walk, St. John went below and into the
library, where hung a rifle over the chimney piece and also a brace of
swords. He got down the rifle and loaded it. Then he strapped the larger
of the swords around his waist.

"Now you look quite like a soldier," said his mother encouragingly. "I
hope you can shoot straight."

"I--I don't want to kill--kill anybody," he answered. "If I do, the
Yankees will be very--very vindictive."

"But you must protect our home!" insisted Mrs. Mary Ruthven. "Come,
brace up!"

Still trembling, and with a face as white as chalk, St. John walked to
the veranda of the homestead. He gazed down the road and saw a body of
soldiers approaching, in a cloud of dust and smoke. Then a cannon boomed
out, and a ball hit the corner of the house, sending a shower of
splinters in all directions.

"They have struck the house!" shrieked Mrs. Ruthven. "We shall all be
murdered!"

"Spare us! spare us!" gasped St. John, as a company of soldiers came up
to the mansion on the double-quick. "We have harmed nobody! Spare us!"

"You big calf!" cried one of the soldiers. "We aint going to hurt you.
Git up from yer knees!" For St. John had indeed fallen upon his knees in
his abject terror.

"Who--who are you?"

"We are Confederates--if you'll