The Northerner released his captive, but stood unmoved as he looked into the pistol's muzzle and the blazing eyes of the cornered scout.
"I'm sorry," he said, in quiet dignity. "I'm very sorry; but I had to bring you out." He paused, then spoke again: "And you needn't bother about your gun. If you'd had any ammunition, our fire would have been returned, back yonder in the woods. The game's up, Cary. Come down!"
CHAPTER VI
The head and shoulders disappeared. A short pause followed, then the ladder came slowly down, and the Southerner descended, while Virgie crouched, a sobbing little heap, beside her doll. But when he reached the bottom rung, she rose to her feet and ran to meet him, weeping bitterly.
"Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I didn't do it right! I didn't do it right!"
She buried her head in his tattered coat, while he slipped an arm about her and tried to soothe a sorrow too great for such a tiny heart to bear.
"But you did do it right," he told her. "It was my fault. Mine! My leg got cramped, and I had to move." He stooped and kissed her. "It was my fault, honey; but you?—you did it splendidly!" He patted her tear-stained cheek, then turned to his captor, with a grim, hard smile of resignation to his fate.
"Well, Colonel, you've had a long chase of it; but you've gotten my brush at last."
The Union soldier faced him, speaking earnestly: