Suggs who had lost the power of speech wandered among the crowd in search of his commanding officer.
As the parade passed the Judge’s gate, Stella stood wide-eyed, tense with excitement, watching the tall horseman with two scarlet crosses on his breast who led the procession.
“The spirit of some daring knight of the middle ages come back to earth again!” she cried. “Superb! Superb! I could surrender to such a man!”
A lace handkerchief fluttered from her bosom and waved a moment above her head. The tall figure turned in astonishment, bowed, tipped his spiked helmet, and without realising it suddenly reined his horse to a stand—and the whole line halted.
The leader whispered to a tall figure by his side, apparently his orderly, who turned to the line behind and shouted.
“Boys! three cheers for the little gal at the gate! She’s all right! The purtiest little gal in the countee—oh!”
A rousing cheer rose from the ranks.
A ripple of sweet girlish laughter broke the silence which followed, the lace handkerchief fluttered again and the line moved slowly on.
Stella counted them.
“Only forty men. And they dared a regiment!” With another laugh, she deserted Suggs and disappeared in the flowers and shrubbery toward the house as the last echoes of the raiders died away in the distance.