“My darling,” she sobbed, sinking in his arms.
“We unexpectedly met some ugly customers from the hills we had seen once before. A little pitched battle delayed us thirty minutes, but none of our boys were hurt.”
“Kiss me!” she whispered.
A distant whistle rang through the woods and the picket outside answered.
“What’s that?” Stella gasped.
“He blew the signal, ‘message for the Chief’; he’s from town, I’m afraid,” John answered.
A horse’s hoof echoed on the flagstones before the columns, and in a moment the picket rushed to the window.
“Bad news, sir!”
“What is it?” John asked quietly:
“A regiment of United States cavalry slipped into town just after dark.”