"A spy? Of course not. I hid in the woods all day, then climbed a tall pine tree and got the lay of their camp—the number of their guns—the disposition of forces and their lines of attack. Yesterday I had the wires at Drury's Bluff and started trouble. I'm on my way now to join my command, but I had a good excuse for coming home to hold you in in my arms again, if only for a moment. You see, poor old Roger got a wound in his flank—from a stray bullet."
"A stray bullet," asked Mrs. Gary, doubtfully.
"Yes," he smiled, for he had escaped it, "a stray bullet meant for me."
"But, Daddy," Virgie interrupted, "while you were up in the tree—"
A wild whoop broke off Virgie's question. Sally Ann was rushing down the steps, her eyes rolling up with excitement.
"Mars' Cary! Mars' Cary! Somebody comin' long de road!"
"Who? How many?" Cary demanded, springing up and running towards the gate that opened on the wagon road over the hills.
"Des' one," responded Sally Ann with naïve truthfulness. "Ol' Dr. Simmons. He drivin' by de gate in de buggy."
Mrs. Cary threw up her hands with a muffled cry of relief and laughter. "Oh, Sally! Sally!" she exclaimed, "you'll be the death of me."
"But Lor! Miss Hallie," said Sally plaintively, "he tole me fer to tell him."