"Yes, Cap'n."
"Then it is Colonel Bradner's rig, sure," went on the young officer. "Forward, and we'll soon have them prisoners!" and away he dashed in the lead. By the time he had come alongside of the turnout the negro coachman had turned about and was lashing the team furiously, in an attempt to escape in the opposite direction.
"Stop that team, or I will fire!" ordered Artie, and aimed the gun he still carried.
At these words a scream came from the carriage, and then from under a black canvas cover was thrust the face of Mrs. Bradner.
"Don't you dare stop us, you miserable Yankee!" she screamed. "I won't have it!"
"Don't make a fool of yourself, Martha," came from the colonel, in a lower tone.
"Stop, I say," went on Artie, and placed the muzzle of the gun within two feet of the negro driver's head. Without delay Joe drew up, and the carriage came to a stop.
"Go ahead! Don't stop!" screamed Mrs. Bradner, more unreasonable than ever.
"Madam, you had best keep quiet," said Captain Fordick. "We know what you and your husband have been doing to Captain Lyon, and you can both consider yourselves under military arrest."
"Under arrest!" gasped the lady. "How dare you speak to me in this insulting fashion!"