Love under Fire. Randall Parrish

conscious of her own attraction, but she sat there silent, the lashes shading her eyes, the clear light of the dawn upon her face. I cannot describe what I saw, only it was a young face, the skin clear and glowing with health, the nose beautifully moulded, the throat white and round, the red lips arched like a bow, and a broad forehead shadowed by dark hair. She had a trooper's hat on, worn jauntily on one side, crossed sabres in front, and her shoulders were concealed by a gray cavalry cape. Suddenly she flashed a glance at me, her eyes full of laughter.

      "Well, Mr. Lieutenant Galesworth, have you looked long enough?"

      The swift question confused me, but I found answer.

      "No; but as long as I dare. You were observing me also."

      "Naturally--womanly curiosity is my excuse. Would you like to know what conclusion I came to?"

      "From your eyes it may not prove altogether flattering."

      "Oh, my eyes are not to be trusted. I warn you frankly of that at the very start. All I shall say is you appear better than I had expected--only, really, you need a shave."

      "Better how? In what way?"

      "Well, younger for one thing; somehow your statement that you were a lieutenant made me suspect your age--or possibly it was your voice."

      "I am twenty-four."

      "And look to be scarcely twenty. How did you ever gain a commission? Were you in battle?"

      The question decidedly hurt my pride, yet I managed to control my tongue.

      "I have met colonels in both armies no older than I," I returned swiftly. "Of course I have been in battle, wounded for the matter of that, and three months a prisoner."

      "Oh, I did not mean to question your right to the shoulder straps. War makes men fast; I know that for my home has been in the track of both armies."

      "You live in this neighborhood?"

      "Yes, about twenty miles south of where we are now. Shall I tell you what I am doing here?"

      I bowed, eager to learn although I had not been brash enough to inquire.

      "You have been wondering all night," carelessly. "If you had asked I should have refused to answer, but will now reward your remarkable patience with a full confession. I am going to take quinine back to our hospitals. I won't tell you where I am going to get it," a bit defiantly, "although I am not afraid you would try to stop me."

      "Certainly not; why should I?"

      "There are plenty of Yanks who do; the last messenger was shot by your raiders, and the whole consignment lost. He was my cousin; that is why I am trying what I can do--the boys need it so badly. If you are an honorable soldier you will not interfere with a work of mercy."

      "An honorable soldier!" I exclaimed, stung by the words. "Do you question that?"

      "Not until after daylight came, and I noticed how you were clothed," and her eyes lost all gleam of humor. "I respect a scout, but despise a spy."

      My cheeks flamed, as I realized what she meant--the tattered gray jacket, buttoned tightly, and concealing my blue blouse. In swift disgust I wrenched it open, and flung the garment into the road.

      "I had entirely forgotten I had the thing on," I explained hastily. "Don't condemn until you hear my story. You will listen, will you not?"

      She sat silent, looking intently into my face, with merely the slightest inclination of the head.

      "I came into your lines dressed just as I am now, drifting across the river behind a log. It was my third attempt to get through your pickets, and this time I succeeded. I found myself in thick brush near a cluster of tents, and overheard two officers talking. One was a major by the name of Hardy--do you know him?"

      "Yes," a swift little catch in her voice.

      "The other was a shorter, heavier-set man, out-ranking Hardy."

      "Speaking with short, crisp sentences," she interrupted, "and wearing a heavy beard?"

      "He spoke that way--yes; but as to the beard I could not say owing to the darkness."

      "It must have been General Johnston."

      "I thought as much. The two were discussing the getting of despatches through to Beauregard, and decided no one could succeed but a fellow they called Billie, some relative or friend of Hardy's. It was all arranged he should try it, and the major started off to complete arrangements. An aide, with the despatches, was to meet the messenger at the 'Three Corners,' where the little log church is, and then accompany him through the pickets. It was plainly enough my duty to intercept these if I could, but in order to do so I must pass through two miles of the Confederate camp, meeting soldiers almost every step of the way. That was when I stole the jacket, and slipped it on, and never thought of it again until you spoke."

      She was leaning forward now, intensely interested, her lips parted, the quick breath revealed by the pulsing of her breast.

      "And--and you got to the 'Three Corners'?"

      "To a point just below. I ran most of the way, and then had to crawl through the bushes to get around a picket-post, but I believed I was there in plenty of time. Then you came rattling down the hill, with an officer riding along beside you, and, of course, I mistook you for Billie. I jumped your outfit in the hollow."

      She flung up her hands in expressive gesture.

      "Were you hanging there all that time--even before the lieutenant left?"

      "I certainly was; hanging on for dear life too. My limbs are black and blue. I never saw a pony travel like that little devil."

      She burst into an unrestrained ripple of laughter, scarcely able to speak, as the full humor of the situation appealed to her. No doubt the expression of my face did its part, but she certainly found it most amusing. In spite of myself I had to smile in sympathy.

      "Oh, that was too good; I shall have to tell the general. Well, I helped Billie Hardy out that time, didn't I? I reckon you don't see much fun in it though."

      "No, I don't," frankly, "yet I cannot say I am entirely sorry."

      "Indeed," sobering instantly because of my earnestness. "I cannot understand that--the despatches have gone through."

      "Without doubt. From a military standpoint I surely regret my failure. But if I had intercepted Billie I should never have met you."

      "Oh!"

      "Nor come to know you."

      Again the girl laughed, and I noticed the dimple in her cheek, the gray-blue eyes glancing up at me mockingly.

      "Don't flatter yourself that you do," she retorted pleasantly, "for you might be mistaken altogether."

CHAPTER V

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ACQUAINTANCES, NOT FRIENDS

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      The manner in which this was uttered made me feel that she was in earnest. Indeed I was already beginning to realize that this young woman was an enigma, her moods changing so rapidly as to keep me in a state of constant bewilderment--one moment frank, outspoken, friendly; the next hiding her real self behind a barrier of cold reserve which I seemed helpless to penetrate. Yet this very changeableness was attractive, keeping my mind constantly on the alert, and yielding her a peculiar charm. As she spoke these words her eyes encountered mine, almost in challenge, which I met instantly.

      "Perhaps not--but I shall."

      "Oh,