But Polly’s face was grave and she at once began asking Roxy questions, so that in a few moments Roxy no longer remembered to be angry, and was telling Polly all that she knew about the advance of Lee’s soldiers, and of what her father had said about driving the horses into some hidden valley among the hills where they would be safe.
“If the Confederates find your father they will take him prisoner,” Polly suddenly announced. “Of course they will, for they will see by his uniform that he is a Union soldier!”
“Oh, Polly!” exclaimed Roxy. “I don’t believe my father thought about that,” and her gray eyes widened with fear.
But Polly assured her that of course Captain Delfield had thought of it, and would prepare to avoid capture.
“If we could only have some warning before the soldiers get here perhaps no great harm would be done; we could drive off the stock, and go away ourselves, if that seemed best,” Polly said thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’m not going to have ‘Brownie’ go until I do,” and she patted the little brown horse lovingly.
“I guess I must go now,” Roxy said. “You will signal every morning, won’t you, Polly?”
Polly promised, and Roxy started for home, her thoughts filled with a new fear: that the Confederates might discover her father and take him prisoner. She remembered what Polly had said about being warned of the approach of the invading army; and before Roxy had reached the old sycamore she had made a firm resolve that she would watch the broad turnpike that led up from Virginia and warn her father and Polly at the first sight of marching troops; and the little girl at once began to plan how she could carry out this resolve. It would mean, she knew, that she must be on the alert constantly, and that she must not let her mother, father or Grandmother Miller discover what she meant to do.
In the high pasture beyond the sycamore towered a rocky ledge where Polly and Roxy had often eaten their picnic luncheons, and the little girl now remembered that from the top of this mass of rock one could look off far beyond the bridge to where two roads met; one of these roads led off through the mountains, the other was the highway that led on past the Miller farm toward Sharpsburg.
“That’s just the place. I’ll go there every day and watch,” Roxy resolved quickly; and suddenly realizing that the sun was nearly out of sight behind the western hills, Roxy hurried toward home, and found the family at the supper table.
“Father, would the Confederates take you prisoner?” she asked eagerly, standing close beside her father’s chair.