“Dat gwine ter make a good ’nuff bow,” she decided, with a little chuckle, “an’ I reckon I kin cut off de top of my moc’sin fer de cord, an’ dar’s some fine arrow-wood in dat shed back of de church.” And Lily, still careful to keep out of sight of any possible traveler, slunk along the edge of the woods and came out behind the rough shed where Mr. Arnold kept a store of seasoned wood for repairs on the church.
It did not take long for her to find a number of slender pieces of hard wood of the desired length for arrows, and seating herself on an old stump behind the shed Lily began to whittle one of these into the proper shape, notching one end and pointing the other end.
“I reckon I won’ mek but one arrow ter-day,” she decided, as she pulled off one of her moccasins and with great care carefully cut two slender strips from its top. With these she proceeded to string the bough cut from the sapling, and although it lacked the force and rebound of seasoned wood, it nevertheless proved equal to speeding the arrow with considerable force.
“I jes’ fin’ a chanst ter mek dat spy t’ink he’s shot,” she thought, as she turned toward home, realizing that hours had passed since she had parted from Berry, and beginning to dread Mrs. Arnold’s questionings as to her absence.
“I reckon I cyan’t say nothin’, jes’ kind of act sulky,” she decided mournfully; but a moment later she forgot her own troubles. The soft, even pad of approaching footfalls made her scurry into the underbrush and conceal herself, and she was not a moment too soon, for she had hardly crouched behind a thick growing mass of laurel, before the hated figure of the spy came into sight.
Lily held her breath until he had passed her hiding-place, then she stepped out noiselessly into the path behind him, drew her bow, took careful aim, and the clumsy arrow sped through the air striking the man sharply on his neck.
With a yell that echoed through the silent woods he gave a leap forward, and fled as if pursued by an army of foes. As, indeed, he for the moment believed himself to be. The impact of the sharp pointed arrow had left its mark on his neck, a bruise that he believed to be that of a glancing bullet, and he afterward wondered why he had not heard the report of the rifle, and finally decided that he had heard it. But he did not turn back or seek to discover his assailant, but Lily’s clumsy arrow had made him resolve that there was no time to be lost in sending a message to Corinth, and as he crawled into a hiding-place that he believed secure he decided to take no more chances by traveling on trails.
If Orson could have seen the delighted Lily as she gazed after his fleeing figure, it is probable that she would have had to flee for her life, for Lily fairly danced with delight, and as she sped toward the cabin she would frequently come to a standstill and laugh and wave her bow in triumphant satisfaction. While she had not really injured the dreaded stranger Lily was sure that she had frightened him, and was well satisfied with that.
Meanwhile Berry had met Mollie at the brook, as they had agreed on, and the two friends turned toward the Arnolds’ cabin. Although Berry’s thoughts were full of the spy and the mysterious message, she realized that she must not speak of them to Mollie; and as she looked at Mollie’s happy face, and noticed how much better the little girl looked since the day when Berry had discovered the returned wanderers in their own cabin, Berry for the time forgot her plans to help the Union Army and thought only of what she could do for this friend who depended so much on her.
“I am going to teach you after this, Mollie,” she said, reaching out to clasp Mollie’s hand firmly in her own as they walked on side by side. “You see, Father is too busy just now; and I am sure I can help you learn to write.”