“I am not one of them, Mr. Callicot; on the contrary, I am an officer of the Union army, on the staff of the major general commanding the eleventh and twelfth corps.”
“Impossible!” groaned the sufferer.
“More than this, I have shot the villain who fired at you,” continued Somers.
“He certainly took no part with the other man, father,” interposed the daughter; “and I heard him order his companion to leave the house.”
“If you are still in doubt, you will find the villain’s horse in your stable, and all his weapons in your back room.”
“Go and see, Sophia,” said the old man; “for we know not whom to trust.”
Somers conducted the lady to the back room, and exhibited the weapons; then to the stable, where the negro had taken the horse.
“If you are not satisfied, Miss Callicot, you may send one of your servants to a field on the left of the road, about half a mile from here, and he will find the body of the guerilla,—for such he was.”
“I am satisfied, sir, for I noticed the horse when the man rode into the yard,” replied the lady. “Why did you not protect us?”
“I fired at the scoundrel a moment after he discharged his pistol at your father the first time; but the smoke in the room spoiled my aim, and I missed him. I also fired at him when your father fell, as you must have noticed.”