“Death was instantaneous,” he called. He bent his body over the handle-bar, and they watched him disappear rapidly around the turn in the road.
Miss Farrar sighed with relief.
“Thank you very much,” she said.
As though signifying that to oblige a woman he would shoot any number of prisoners, the sergeant raised his hat.
“Don’t mention it, lady,” he said. “I seen he was annoying you, and that’s why I got rid of him. Some of them amateur soldiers, as soon as they get into uniform, are too fresh. He took advantage of you because your folks were away from home. But don’t you worry about that. I’ll guard this house until your folks get back.”
Miss Farrar protested warmly.
“Really!” she exclaimed; “I need no one to guard me.”
But the soldier was obdurate. He motioned his comrade down the road.
“Watch at the turn,” he ordered; “he may come back or send some of the Blues to take us. I’ll stay here and protect the lady.”
Again Miss Farrar protested, but the sergeant, in a benign and fatherly manner, smiled approvingly. Seating himself on the grass outside the fence, he leaned his back against the gatepost, apparently settling himself for conversation.