st, after all. It is you--you women, who save us in the darkest
hours. You--our wives--our mothers--who wage a silent battle in the
lonely, broken homes. You give us love and pity--tenderness and tears--a
flag of pride that turns defeat to victory. The women of the South," he
cried, and Herbert Cary doffed his hat before his wife, "the crutch on
which the staggering hope of Dixie leans!"

There came, then, the sound of hurrying footsteps. Once more Sally Ann
rushed from the house but this time genuine danger was written plainly
in her face.

"Mars' Cary! Mars' Cary! Dey's comin' dis time--sho' 'nuff!"

"How many?" Cary cried, springing for the roadway and his horse.

"Dey's comin' thu' de woods--an' Lawd Gawd, de yearth is fyar blue wid'
'em."

"Billy!" commanded Cary. "Take Lightfoot as fast as you can down to the
edge of the woods. Don't worry, Hallie, they'll never catch me once I'm
in the saddle."

He stooped and kissed her, then caught up Virgie for a last hug, burying
his worn face in her curls. "Good-by, little one. Take good care of
Mother. Good-by!"

With one last grasp his wife caught his hand. "Herbert! which way do you
go?"

"Across the river--to the Chesterfield side."

"But the Yankees came that way, too!"

"I'll circle around them. If they've left a guard at the crossing I'll
swim the river higher up." He slapped his holster with his open hand.
"Listen for three shots. If they come in quick succession--then I've
crossed--I'm safe. If I only had a few men I'd stay, but alone, I
can't--you know I can't. Good-by! God bless you." And in another moment
he was in the saddle--had waved his hand--was gone.

Straining their eyes after him, as if they would somehow pierce the dark
woods which hid his flight, mother and daughter stood as if turned to
stone. Only Virgie, after a moment, waved her hand and sent her soft,
childish prayer winging after him to save him from all harm. "Good-by,
Daddy-man, good-by!"

Sally Ann, however, having seen the approaching danger with her own
eyes, began to wring her hands and cry hysterically. "Aw, Miss Hallie, I
so skeered! I so skeered!"

"Sally," cried Mrs. Cary, as the sound of hoofbeats thudding through the
woods came unmistakably to her ears, "take Virgie with you instantly
and run down through the grove to the old ice house. Hide there under
the pine tags. Understand?"

But the negro girl, ashen with terror, seemed incapable of flight.

"I skeered to go,