They heard the cries of their enemies once, but beyond that nothing was seen or known of them, until they had gone a mile or more, when looking back Mara uttered a low exclamation.
Her companion turned quickly in alarm when he saw a bright light in the distance.
“They have set fire to the house!” she exclaimed in a tremulous voice, as the night scene was lit with a brighter glare, while the flames leaped higher and higher.
“See! I can distinguish the forms of some of them by the light of the flames!” she continued clutching him by his arm. “Oh, my poor home.”
“Do not despair,” he said, encouragingly, as they watched the fire. “That tells that they are not following us. But we must not lose any time. Come, we must go on.”
Reluctantly she turned from the sight of the burning building.
“Homeless and a fugitive!” she murmured. “God have pity on me now.”
“Do not lose courage,” he said. “Remember you are not alone in your grief. All that I held dear sleeps to-night beneath the Confederate sod.”
Then as if wishing to change the subject he said, pointing down the valley:
“That must be our course. On our right is Dalton, on our left, Buzzard’s Gap. We must look sharp or we shall run into the clutches of foes before we know it. These disguises must be cast off at the first possible moment. Now that they have served their purpose we could not be in more dangerous costumes, for were we discovered we should be mistaken for escaping slaves and shot down without a word.”